The Ultimate Gift
by Alaska829Snow
Summary: From "The Last Resort" / "Desperate Measures" Universe: a magic!baby fic telling the story of Regina's pregnancy with Charlotte.
1. The Return of The Evil Queen

**Hello again, dear Swen friends. After I finished The Last Resort, I got a lot of requests to keep writing this family. And although I want more than anything to continue writing Charlotte (it will happen), the biggest request I got was this: the story of how Regina and Emma got pregnant with Charlotte in the first place. **

**So, here it is! This fic will follow the Swan-Mills ladies throughout Regina's pregnancy. And though there will certainly be lots of fluff, please be prepared for infinite amounts of family drama, too. My head-canon for The Last Resort was that part of the reason Regina was so crazy protective of Charlotte was because it was not, by any means, an easy pregnancy. **

**I hope you enjoy. And thanks very much to the always lovely FlyYouFools for the beta! :) **

**Let me know what you think xo-Dakota. **

* * *

_Regina had no idea what the hell a "honeymoon" was when Emma first tried to explain it to her. _

_But as she curled up in their gigantic king size bed, in their enormous hotel suite under the moonlit Caribbean sky, she wished she could send a personal thank- you note to the genius who first came up with the concept. Because she was sure the past two days had been amongst the best of her life. _

"_Is it just me, or did marriage suddenly make sex even better?" Emma's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "I didn't think that was possible but, I mean… do you feel that? Please tell me you feel that?" _

_To say that Regina felt it would be an understatement. _

_Every fiber of her being was still vibrating with the magic they made—every element of her soul felt shaken by the intensity of their connection—she felt it anywhere and everywhere—she felt Emma—felt them—felt something she had never experienced__before: the ultimate combination of magic and love and adrenaline and things she couldn't even quite name. _

"_I do," she nodded, her breath still caught in her throat. "It's overwhelming." _

"_If I had known this would happen I would've proposed ages ago. Seriously, like, my first day in town." _

_Regina smiled; it was all she could do—further words were a pipe dream now—and though she wished she could fight them, she felt silent drops of liquid trickle down her face. _

"_Are you crying?" Emma propped herself up on her elbows before she quickly placed one hand on her newlywed's cheek. "You're crying." _

"_We're married." _

"_Oh, really?" Emma lightly teased, but only because she knew immediately she wasn't looking at tears of sadness. "Is that what those white dresses were for? Thank you for clarifying that, I was totally confused." _

"_Shut up," Regina chuckled through her blurred vision. "I'm so damn happy." _

"_Yeah," Emma nodded before kissing her forehead and snuggling her closer. "Me too."_

* * *

**Two months later**

Emma emerged from the bathroom dressed and ready for work. She sat down on the bed as she slid into her boots and, carefully, tied them up. Somehow, she managed to do so without taking her eyes off her wife—who stood in front of the mirror diligently studying her own reflection.

_Her wife. _

Emma was quite certain her friends and family were getting sick of how often she used that phrase. She couldn't truthfully remember the last time she used Regina's actual name. She could practically hear herself jump at every last chance to bring up the queen in conversation just so she could say it over and over again: _my wife_.

She couldn't help it—and she definitely didn't care. Because _this_—well, this was the kind of love Emma thought she would never have. Fuck anyone who didn't want to listen to her brag about it.

The savior stood up, walked toward Regina, wrapped her arm around the woman's waist and placed a kiss on her neck. "Good-morning."

But the greeting was not met with welcome reciprocation.

"Get off of me," Regina quickly swatted Emma's hand off her hip bone and Emma furrowed her brow at the unusual response.

Except, if she really stopped and thought about it, it had become strangely usual as of late.

There was something quite off with Regina.

Emma could sense it in the air around them—she could taste it in her kiss—feel it in her touch.

And yet, she was entirely unable to put her finger on what, exactly, it was.

But she knew she had ignored it long enough—she was no longer willing to shrug it off as something that would pass.

"Hey," she said—refusing to back off—she propped her chin down on Regina's shoulder and met her gaze in the mirror, "what's the matter?"

"Don't you have eyes?" Regina sassed as she gestured downward. "These pants no longer fit me."

Emma followed Regina's instruction and looked down at the brown slacks—but all she could see was the memory associated with them. "Those are the pants you wore the day Henry ran into the mines," she noted with a smile. "I love them."

"You can't be serious," Regina huffed back at her as she continuously fidgeted with her zipper. "They won't close without cutting off my circulation."

"Oh," Emma said nonchalantly, as she watched the process. "Well, maybe they just shrunk, or something? Like in the wash, you know? That happens to my jeans after a while. It's nothing to panic about."

"This," Regina fumed as she shimmed out of Emma's embrace, pulled the pants down to her ankles and stepped out of them, "is_ your_ fault."

"No." Emma thoughtfully considered the accusation. "I didn't do the laundry this week, so I couldn't have screwed it up."

"That's _not _what I meant," her wife rebutted; she grabbed her robe from the closet door and wrapped it around her body before crossing her arms. "I meant it's been merely two months of marriage to you and your horrific diet and I'm already losing my figure."

"Come on, that's not fair. You barely touch my junk food. You really think you're getting fat by osmosis?"

Before the words were out of her mouth, Emma realized how they sounded. She wanted to grab that last sentence and shove it back down her throat. But it was far too late.

"So," she watched Regina turn with rage in her eyes, "you_ admit_ that I'm getting fat, then?"

"No, Regina, come on. That is _so_ not what I meant. You know that is not what I meant. I would never—come on, stop, don't do this."

She tried to emphasize her point by stepping forward and engulfing the petite woman in her arms. But Regina was still having none of it.

"I already told you not to touch me. You have done more than enough damage."

Emma felt suspiciously like this wasn't about a pair of pants. But she just didn't—couldn't—understand what it _was_ about.

"Is there something else going on? Am I missing something? You know I'm really bad at figuring it out—can I have a hint?"

"No, dear, there is nothing else is going on."

"I, um, I have to go to work," Emma glanced at the clock—and then back to the flustered woman in front of her. "But I'm a little worried about leaving in the middle of whatever is happening right now."

"There is nothing happening besides you getting on my very last nerve. So, please—just go to work already and take your son to school on your way."

"_My _son?" The phrase was now so foreign that it startled Emma to her very core. "Mine?"

"Did you happen notice he hasn't done_ any_ of his chores this week?"

"I know but he's got that big project due soon."

"Sure, yes, make excuses for him. Like I said, _your_ son."

"I don't understand why you're so cranky," Emma frowned, entirely frustrated that she had failed, so epically, in her quest to get to the bottom of this mystery. "But I love you like crazy, alright?"

Regina rolled her eyes and stormed into the bathroom without another word.

Emma couldn't remember the last time she went to work without an '_I love you, too.'_

* * *

Snow sat in the chair next to her husband's desk at the station—the couple was sharing a bagel when their daughter uncharacteristically came sulking into the room.

Without so much as greeting them, Emma tossed her things on the floor, sat down at her own desk and buried her face in her hands.

Snow and David exchanged a wordless but concerned look. Snow nodded at her husband, encouraging him to speak first.

"Emma?" He addressed her gently. "What's wrong?"

"_Nothing_," she muttered back at them through her hands.

"You're kidding, right? You look like you're about to burst into tears."

"I just had a crap morning, that's all."

"Why, sweetheart? What happened?" Snow took her turn, pushing a little harder than David. "Can we help?"

Their daughter remained silent for a moment—as if she had to consider whether she was willing to talk. It didn't come easy to her: opening herself up to them. Not when she was upset—not when she shut down.

"Regina's in bad mood."

"Oh?" It was all Snow could say—because Regina was still, after all this time, their least-comfortable topic—the topic most likely to get them all into trouble.

"It's not like her normal bad moods, either," Emma continued. "She's just...I don't know. She's pushing me away. I don't get it. She hasn't pushed me away in ages."

"The honeymoon is over," David told her, matter-of-factly. "The first year of marriage is always rough. You're beyond being sickeningly in love and now it's time for the hard work of having someone as your life partner."

"I thought true love meant we were _always_ going to be sickeningly in love? Like you two?" The puppy-dog eyes with which Emma looked at them made Snow ache in a way she could barely handle.

"That's not what he meant at all. Your father just meant that true love doesn't automatically make things easy."

"Yeah," Emma scoffed. "Apparently not."

"It will get better, though—you're both so stubborn—this was bound to happen sooner rather than later."

"I guess," Emma sighed. "I just want my wife, you know? Because, honestly, right now I feel like I'm living with..."

"_The Evil Queen_?"

"Shut the hell up," Emma barked back so fast and so fiercely Snow was sure that if looks could kill she would have been murdered right then and there by her own flesh and blood. "I didn't fucking say that."

And, yes, that was true: Emma _didn't_ say it.

But she didn't have to say it.

The Charmings knew that their daughter was certainly thinking it.

And, God, she looked like she absolutely hated herself for it.

* * *

As he pushed his cart down the aisle, David heard Regina's voice before he saw her—that deep, dark tone—the menacing threats delivered with unmistakable viciousness. He would've recognized it anywhere.

And, suddenly, he felt like he was back in Fairytale Land trying to protect his wife from her seemingly indestructible enemy.

A chill ran down his spine. Because he wasn't in the enchanted forest— he was in the middle of the Storybrooke grocery store.

And that voice belonged to his daughter-in-law—because his daughter married his wife's biggest nemesis-and they were one, big, happy family. Well, most of the time.

He followed the sound as he turned the corner.

"I don't understand how hard it is to locate kale in this tiny grocery store!" Regina yelled. "Find it _immediately_, you useless piece of..."

"Regina?" David approached her cautiously, cutting off her rant as he watched the traumatized employee she was verbally abusing scurry off in the opposite direction. "What's going on?"

"Oh, yes, of course," she nearly grunted as she eyed her father-in-law from head to toe. "You _would_ be here right now. You and your wife have a very special gift of always showing up when I least want you around. How do you do that, exactly?"

"Why were you just screaming at that guy?" He asked, ignoring the semi-insulting question posed to him.

"If you must know, I am trying to find kale so I can make a _healthy_ meal because your daughter is incapable of eating like a normal human and is ruining my life with her grease and filth. But since, as usual, I am surrounded by _idiots_ in this town, a simple task has been turned into an ordeal."

"Look, I'm sure they're trying their hardest," David soothed. "Emma mentioned you were having an off-day, maybe you should just take a deep breath?"

"Emma spoke to you about me?"

The last thing David wanted was to get his daughter into trouble. But five seconds into the exchange he had clearly already said the wrong thing.

"No, uh...it's not what you think," he desperately back-peddled. "She came into work upset. We, uh, dragged it out of her eventually."

_"We?" _Regina's hand flew to her hip as she raised her brow at him.

"Uh, yeah—I mean, Mary-Margaret was there, too."

"I'm so glad Emma still goes running to her parents like a child."

"She hardly runs to us, Regina—and you can't say_ still_ when she never got the chance to as a kid."

David hoped and prayed the tactic would work—because he knew Regina had a soft spot for Emma's past—and maybe, just maybe, the mention of it would calm her down.

But today he had no such luck.

"Well, then, next time _you _speak to her please tell her that I'm exhausted. And I have been sick all week and she has been too busy to notice. Too busy coming home from work with the bags of Doritos that she proceeds to leave around the house thinking that a magical maid is going to clean up after her."

"Emma loves you and she's worried about you," was the best David could offer.

"Forget this," she decided, ignoring him completely. "I will not wait around here all day. I will just use magic to make a healthy meal. I should know by now that incompetence is the norm and I need to do everything my damn self."

"You should talk to Emma," the prince tried one last time. "That's just my opinion, for what it's worth."

"Nothing," Regina chuckled at him, making him feel smaller than he had in a very, very long time. "Your opinion is worth absolutely nothing."

The Evil Queen, David thought, indeed; he stood dumbfounded as he watched her walk away.

"I found it," the grocer came running back, holding the kale in his hand. "Where'd she go?"

"She had to leave," David told him.

"_Seriously?" _

"Look, uh, you know what? I'll take it—I'll bring it to her—and I really appreciate your help."

"Whatever," the irritated employee practically threw the item at him. "Your daughter is a brave woman, you know."

"Thanks."

It took David a few seconds to understand that the stranger wasn't anywhere close to complimenting Emma.

* * *

In the Charming family apartment, Snow and David stood side-by-side unpacking the bags of groceries.

"What's this?" Snow asked, as she pulled out the leafy greens. "Are we dieting or something?"

"Oh, uh—it was Regina's," David half-explained. "It's actually kind of a long story."

"You saw Regina? How was she? Was she as cranky as Emma said?"

"Well, she was screaming at an innocent grocer because she couldn't find that kale. Honestly, she sounded insane—everyone was staring. She had that crazy look in her eyes, too."

"The Evil Queen eyes?" Snow whispered, as if Emma might pop out of nowhere, hear her and slap her across the face. "I really don't get what's going on with her. But I'm sort of worried."

"She looked a little weird, too."

"Weird, how?"

"I don't know… she was all sweaty. And, uh, she mentioned she wasn't feeling great and Emma hasn't noticed. Maybe she's just bad at being sick? I can't imagine her handling that very well. Maybe once she feels better, things will go back to normal."

"I can't remember Regina ever being sick in the whole time I've known her," Snow tried to recall. She looked at her husband who suddenly seemed awkward and unsure in her presence. "Is there something else you're not saying?"

"Yeah," David admitted. "But I don't know how to tell you without it sounding completely creepy."

"Creepy? Why would it be creepy?"

"I wasn't looking," David prefaced. "But Regina's breasts also looked….well, frankly, huge."

David went to give Snow the carton of eggs from the grocery bag, but her hands flew to her mouth as she gasped—she missed the item completely causing them to fall and shatter all over the kitchen floor.

"I'm sorry!" David yelled as he bent down towards the mess. "I_ wasn't_ looking on purpose, I swear."

"David, no, stop," Mary-Margaret demanded as she grabbed onto his bicep and pulled him back up to her eye-line. "Just…wait a minute."

"Okay—I'm waiting."

_"David." _

"What?"

"Gold and magic and the two of them and true love and, seriously, I'm so stupid," she ranted and jumped up and down in place. "I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner!"

"Snow, you are not making any sense."

"Regina and Emma and Gold," she repeated. "David—_oh my God_."

"Okay, uh, you're still not completing sentences," he tried to follow along. "You're just sort of naming people now?"

"David," Snow took a deep breath and composed herself before finally saying it out loud: "I think Regina is _pregnant_."

"I'm sorry," he laughed at the ridiculous statement, "but what the hell are even you talking about?"

"She's been cranky and tired. Emma said she was complaining about gaining weight. Her boobs look big and she's felt sick? It's-so-obvious!"

"Obvious?" David mocked. "Sure, except for the fact that she's married to our daughter and last time I checked our daughter is also a woman?"

"But Gold told me that Regina would _carry _my grandchildren, remember?"

"Oh," he realized, as he put the pieces together. "So, then, you think it's magic? Because they have true love?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, but, no," the prince protested. "I mean, they _just_ got married five minutes ago."

"So, what?"

"I don't know, I thought they would wait."

"I highly doubt they have_ control_ over it."

"You really think that's it?"

"I _know_ it is," Snow determined. "Call it a mother's instinct. I just know—Regina is pregnant with our grandchild."

"Oh," shattered eggs still all over the floor, David sat down at the kitchen table and processed his wife's claim. "Should we tell Emma?"

"And take that away from Regina? Are you kidding me? I'm_ not_ going to be responsible for that. I'm actively trying not to give her reasons to hate us any more than she already does."

"Are we going to tell Regina, then?"

"You want me to march up to Regina and suggest to her that she's pregnant? Are you trying to get me killed?"

"Yeah, alright, I can see how that might be a death wish."

"They'll just have to figure it out on their own."

"And how long do you think_ that _will take?"

"If we figured it out, they shouldn't be too far behind us. I mean, honestly, how much longer can they go on like this?"

"We're going to be grandparents again," he realized. "Geez—I mean, I'm happy for them but this is going to be weird."

"But David," she grinned, "this time we'll be around to see it—this time we'll all be together."

* * *

The Charmings sat at the dinner table at 108 Mifflin Street in complete and utter awkward silence.

It had been five long and painful days since Snow had come up with her pregnancy theory but Regina and Emma didn't seem any closer to figuring out the possibility of which she felt so sure.

As the four of them sat wordlessly, Snow closely studied them all: her daughter looked miserable, Regina looked like she was about to pass out from exhaustion, her husband squirmed in his seat looking like he was afraid to do anything at all. She only wished Henry was here to break the tension—but he had opted for a Friday night with his friends instead. And, at the moment, she was jealous of his excuse.

"We have to go to a _baby_ shower tomorrow," Mary-Margaret suddenly announced, earning her a gentle kick under the table from her husband.

It was a total lie, of course.

But if she couldn't tell them—she could, at the very least, drop hints—put the idea of a _baby_ in their minds. Maybe, she prayed, something would click for one of them. They couldn't be this dense. They were two smart, powerful women. And they knew they had magic—they knew they had true love.

_How-could-they-be-so-blind?_

"Oh, yeah?" Emma replied, though her eyes remained glued on Regina. "Who's knocked up?"

"Our friend."

"Not shit, Sherlock," her daughter quipped. "Which one?"

"You don't know her."

"How could I not know her? I know everyone in this entire town."

"Uh," she stumbled through her lie, "well you don't know her because…"

Snow was saved by Regina abruptly standing up, holding her still-full dinner plate in her hand.

"Regina?" Emma quickly forgot the conversation they were having as her eyes shot up to her wife. "What are you doing?"

"I'm clearing my plate and then I'm going to bed," was the short and cold clarification. "Goodnight."

"But we're not finished eating? And it's only 7:30?"

"I'm finished and I'm tired."

"Okay," Emma conceded; looking a little tired herself; perhaps, tired of fighting. "I love you."

"Please don't leave the dishes in the sink overnight."

Emma didn't reply to the instruction, but merely waited for her wife to exit.

"I'm sorry," she apologized to her parents when Regina was gone; her face flushed red with embarrassment. "I don't know…I don't even know what to say."

"Sweetheart, you don't have to apologize," Snow assured her.

"She looks sort of sick, Emma," David followed up. "Maybe she should go to the doctor."

"Regina doesn't go to doctors. The only doctor in this town is Whale and she doesn't trust him after the whole resurrecting Daniel thing. She's not going to let him touch her."

"But," Snow objected, "I really think that you should try to get her to go because she…"

"You know what?" The savior cut her parents off. "I know you mean well and everything – but just save me the lectures right now, alright? I really don't want to hear it."

"Emma, no, you don't understand."

"I think you guys should probably just go home."

The savior stood up, cleared her parents' dishes from the table and walked into the kitchen.

"We have to tell one of them," David immediately turned to his wife. "Or they're going to be divorced and Regina isn't going to figure out she's pregnant until she's in the middle of giving birth."

"I think you're right."

"So, which one of them do we tell?"

"It has to be Regina," Snow decided. "And I think it has to come from me."

As the words left her mouth, her stomach churned in response.

Because, really: _Why the hell did she always wind up with Regina's secrets?_

* * *

It took Snow two more days to garner enough courage to execute her barely-thought-out plan.

But finally, on Monday afternoon, she stood on the doorstep of the mansion telling herself over and over that it was now-or-never.

Yes, she knew this was going to be miserable and had a 99.99% chance of ending in disaster or death. But she had to do this for her daughter. And, if she was right about all of this, for her newest grandchild, too.

She rang the doorbell and said a silent prayer for things to go as smoothly as they possibly could.

"Hi," she smiled brightly, despite her fear, when Regina opened the door. "Is Emma home?"

"No," the queen leaned against the doorframe, blocking the entrance. "She isn't."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know where she is."

This response, in itself, was peculiar enough. It was even more peculiar than the fact that Regina had answered the door wearing Emma's sweatpants.

Because the savior and the queen had been attached at the hip since they returned from Neverland two years ago—and the fact that Regina sincerely didn't seem to know Emma's whereabouts made Snow feel like she was living in some alternate universe. An alternative universe where, apparently, Regina Mills wore sweatpants in the middle of the day.

"Are you two fighting again?"

"What do you mean, _again_?"

"Nothing," Mary-Margaret shook it off and quickly changed her approach. "Can I come in?"

"You may not."

"But it's important."

"I highly doubt that," Regina shrugged. "We historically have drastically different versions of that word."

_"Please?" _

"Fine," Regina sighed to highlight her extreme displeasure. "It doesn't sound like you're giving me much of a choice."

"Thanks," Snow gratefully replied, as she followed her daughter-in-law through the foyer and into the living room.

"Make it quick, I would like to get on with my day."

"This," Mary-Margaret handed over the brown paper bag she had been strategically hiding behind her back, "is for you."

"Is today some strange holiday from this world I am not aware of?" Regina asked as she accepted it. "Because I have no gift for you in return."

"No, it's not a holiday. This is just something I thought you might need."

Regina ripped open the bag and pulled out the item - the one Snow prayed no one saw her buying earlier that morning. The last thing she needed was the Storybrooke rumor mill churning its usual nonsense.

_"What on earth is this?" _

"It's a pregnancy test."

_Stay calm_, Snow silently told herself; it was vital to stay calm no matter what happened next.

"Is this a sick joke?" Regina shot her the death glare of which she had been on the receiving end so many times before. "Or is this your not-so-subtle way of accusing me of cheating on Emma?"

"It's neither of those things."

"Then why, exactly, would I need this?"

"Do you remember that Gold once told me you were going to have my grandchildren?"

"I recall him trying to play mind games with you when Emma and I first got together, yes."

"You haven't really been yourself lately, and I know that when I was pregnant with Emma I felt..."

"Maybe this _is_ me being myself," Regina cut her off. "Have you ever considered _that_?"

"No," she firmly replied. "Because even when you treat everyone else like crap—you _never_ treat Emma like crap—and you have been for days. I can barely stand to watch it anymore."

The accusation finally startled and softened the woman in front of her. And in that moment Snow was pretty damn sure Regina knew full-well how she had been behaving—the guilt and regret on her face was apparent.

But Snow was not a novice when it came to Regina Mills. Snow knew Regina would not break in front of her. Instead, her former nemesis fell silent—held back her snarky remarks—and sat down on the sofa.

"David said you'd been feeling sick?" She continued, sensing this just might be her golden opportunity. "Have you been throwing up?"

"Yes," Regina whispered. "Quite often."

"You have to admit, it would explain a lot."

"Perhaps it would. But it is impossible."

"This family doesn't really know the meaning of that word," she said—and though it was meant to be a joke, it was also entirely true. "You should just take the test."

"I suppose I could," Regina looked down at the box sitting in her lap, "simply to rule this nonsensical idea of yours out."

"Do you want me to call Emma? Find out where she is? I can ask her to come home."

"No, don't bother. Emma is not very happy with me right now."

"I can't imagine why, you have been _so_ pleasant lately."

"Good, yes, sarcasm will surely help."

"I'm sorry," Snow told her sincerely. "None of us like seeing you like this—something is clearly going on with you. I just thought…I remembered what Gold said and I thought it made sense."

Regina carefully opened the box—pulled out the test—and examined it closely. "What do I do with this stick?"

"You pee on it."

"Excuse me?"

"You pee on the stick and it tells you if you're pregnant," Snow bit her lip, trying so hard not to giggle at the confused look on Regina's face. If she laughed, this would be over faster than it began. "Everyone knows that."

"You might recall that Henry was _adopted._"

"There are probably detailed directions inside."

"I'm sure I'll figure it out."

Regina stood up and headed toward the stairs, leaving Mary-Margaret unsure what her next move should be.

"Do you want me to go?"

"Yes, obviously. You can safely assume I always want you to go."

"Okay," she accepted, understanding she was not going to get a thank you. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. "Well, good luck."

She began to walk out of the room, feeling overall satisfied with the trip. She had done her part, accomplishedall she possibly could and, most importantly, she was leaving in one piece.

"Wait," Regina called out. Snow turned around and saw her daughter-in-law paralyzed on the staircase. "I—I need my Emma."

And there it finally was: all of the vulnerability that had been missing for the past few weeks—the Regina they had come to know so well since she had fallen for the Savior.

"Okay," Snow's lips tugged upwards into an understanding smile. "I'll call her, then."

"No, _don't you dare._ I don't want Emma to know unless she has to. There's really no use floating this idea to her otherwise."

"I can understand that."

As Snow observed Regina, her mind racing to say and do the right thing, she saw a woman who didn't want to be alone—but who wouldn't dare ask for company.

So, Snow made up her mind.

"Look, I know you don't want me to stay, but if you won't let me call Emma I think I'm just going to wait down here while you take the test, alright?"

"If you must," Regina feigned her objection as she turned and finally began to climb the stairs. "I won't stop you."

"Yeah," Snow begged the universe for her theory to be right, hoping that her instincts hadn't led her astray. "I think I must."

* * *

Regina stared at the bizarre stick she had just peed on as she not-so-patiently waited for it to tell her she _wasn't _pregnant.

Because this idea, she knew, was ten-thousand different levels of absurdity. There was no damn way that she was having a baby.

And Snow and her annoying need to make everything bad turn into something lovely was grinding on her a little harder than usual.

Though, truth be told,_ everyone_ was pissing her off a little more than usual these days.

And, yes, she could admit that Snow was certainly right about one thing—Regina knew she had been off for weeks. She thought about it all: her bloated abdomen and her sore breasts, her nauseous stomach and her pounding head.

She thought about the way she couldn't seem to stop herself from snapping at Emma and Henry, even when she didn't mean to. She thought about how all she wanted was Emma's arms around her but how she just kept throwing up old walls, keeping her wife out.

And she really, really_ needed_ there to be an explanation. She just needed there to be. Because she didn't like herself at the moment—she didn't like herself at all.

And _this_ particular explanation, well, truthfully, it was everything she ever dreamed of. She wanted it to be true so badly, she thought she might keel over and sob at the very concept.

Maybe, just maybe, this was Snow White's best suggestion ever.

But then….then she thought about the other symptoms she'd been having—the ones she had done a damn good job of keeping to herself: the heart palpitations she hadn't felt since the early days of her lessons with Gold, the dizziness when she tried to use magic and the way she felt magic bubbling into her throat when she wasn't trying to use it at all.

And she thought about what it would mean—to have a child growing inside of her—one that shouldn't, by any logic, be possible. A child that Rumpelstiltskin—the man who had manipulated her—who had made Emma the Savior—had predicted long ago.

What would it mean that he had dictated _this_, too?

It couldn't be good, she decided. Not for her. Not for Emma. Not for the strictly-hypothetical-baby. Not for anyone.

She knew better.

So, she knew, it had to be a trap.

As much as she wanted it, she couldn't let herself want it.

The test would be negative—the test _had_ to be negative.

Except that it wasn't. Because the answer was staring right back at her.

The test was positive.


	2. What If

**An update for you, my dears. They will be coming more regularly as soon as finals are over for me next week. I hope this story will carry through the upcoming hiatus! So, lots more to come. ****I promise to respond to all of your much-appreciated reviews this weekend. Your enthusiasm for the continuation of this family's story is heartwarming. **

**Thanks, again, to the awesome FlyYouFools for making this story better :) I hope you all enjoy xo**

* * *

Regina only knew the signs of a panic attack from watching Emma have them on multiple occasions. Her wife had long suffered from the debilitating, unpredictable onslaught of terror that accompanied such episodes.

And that was why, as Regina descended the staircase and felt the ground move beneath her feet, she was comfortable with self-diagnosis. Indeed, she was rather confident that her slightly blurred vision and the strange static sound ringing loudly in her ears were caused by a panic attack of her own.

When she made it to the first floor of the house, she recognized that Snow was speaking to her, but she could barely make out the words.

"Please, tell me." Snow grabbed onto her shoulders, nearly shaking her. "What did the test say?"

"It appears you were right," Regina replied, after an inappropriately long pause, "which is certainly a first."

Her former-nemesis tried to close the space between them and engulf her in a hug.

"Stop," Regina almost leapt backwards. "Don't do that."

"What's wrong?"

"I need to tell Emma."

"Oh, _of course_," Snow practically sang. "You'll tell her tonight, then?"

"I'll tell her in my own time," Regina muttered. "And _you_ will not tell her a second beforehand. Or so help me, I swear, I will…."

"You think I don't know that?" Her mother-in-law seemed appalled by the impending threat. "It would have been a lot easier for me to have this conversation with my daughter. I came here, despite knowing it would be painful and awkward for both of us, because I knew it was the right thing to do. I just wanted to help—I'm not trying to pull anything."

"You helped." Regina told her what she wanted to hear in an attempt to get her to leave as fast as humanly possible. "But, now…I _need_ you to get out."

Snow nodded. Without another word, she quickly and quietly made her exit.

As soon as she was gone, Regina felt the now all-too-familiar feeling of nausea overpower her. And, unfortunately, she knew she would never make it to the bathroom in time.

She sprinted toward the kitchen and hovered over the sink until, seconds later, the contents of her stomach were all over the unwashed breakfast dishes.

* * *

After throwing up three times and then subsequently spending twenty minutes scrubbing the kitchen sink, Regina had somewhat calmed down.

She had composed herself enough to go back upstairs and climb underneath the safety of her covers.

With her laptop occupying the space next to her, she was now on a mission. Regina had long-ago learned that Emma liked clichés. Absolutely nothing about their lives had been cliché, the Savior always said—and that meant that in their relationship they were allowed to embrace them.

So Regina sat Google searching "_how to tell your spouse you're pregnant." _(Life would be easier, she thought, if she could also Google search: _how the hell my wife got me pregnant with magic_.)

She scrolled through page after page, rolling her eyes at some of the ridiculously cheesy ideas she came across. She could do cliché—but she would not sink to cheese.

Through her research, she learned that cooking a favorite meal was quite common. She could handle cooking—she would even dare to call cooking one of her talents.

Besides, she was pretty sure cooking a favorite meal was also a good way to _apologize._ And Regina was well aware she needed to do that, too.

The first time the front door opened that evening it was Henry returning home from school.

"What smells so good?" he asked, as he took in the aroma filling the entire first floor of the house. "Seriously, it smells ridiculous in here."

"Macaroni and cheese," Regina, who was sitting quite impatiently on the couch, told her son.

"Ma's favorite—it's been a while since we had it."

"Indeed," she confirmed before standing up and walking toward him. "Henry, do you have a minute to talk?"

"Sure, is everything alright?"

"Yes," she vowed—as she bent down slightly to meet his eye-line, which was no longer that much lower than her own. "I simply wanted to say that I'm sorry if I've been short or harsh with you lately."

"Oh," he was taken aback by the words. Because Regina, though she had softened considerably, was still not one who apologized often. "Nah, you haven't been."

"Are you sure?"

"Well," he considered, "maybe a little bit."

"I haven't been feeling well and if I took that out on you I need you to know that I certainly didn't mean to."

"It's cool; I sort of figured you were sick."

"You did?"

"You've seemed _really_ tired," Henry acknowledged. "And I'm sorry that I fell behind on my chores. I can help you with whatever you need this weekend."

"I love you, Henry," she pulled him into her arms, suddenly overcome with emotion. "And I _always _will."

To her it seemed like just yesterday she held Henry for the first time. And, come to think of it, that might just have been the last time she had a panic attack.

Her little boy was now in high school—and about to become a big brother.

"Lay off the cough syrup, Mom," he lightly teased back at her, not understanding where her sudden sentiment was coming from. "But I love you, too."

"I'll call you when we're ready to eat."

She often wished Henry was _still _a child. But she would never want to turn back the clock. It was a strange paradox she lived in. She wished he still needed her like he used to. But she didn't want to go back to before—to the curse, to the loneliness, to the time before Emma. And besides, she knew that Henry's love for her was more real now than it ever had been.

Regina wouldn't want to turn back the clock because, now, she wasn't alone. Not in life—and not in motherhood. Which was a good thing because she was, apparently, about to start motherhood all over again.

* * *

Exactly an hour and thirteen minutes later, the front door opened for a second time; Emma walked into the house, a dejected look on her face.

"Hi," Regina jumped up from the couch to greet her. She stood right in front of her wife, inches from her face, hoping that the close contact would disorient her enough to get her to listen.

"Hey," Emma mumbled, as she walked right by, barely making eye-contact—seemingly immune to the proximity.

"No, please," Regina spun on her heels using her best begging voice. "Please, just wait a second."

"What's up?" The Savior asked from the staircase, hands defensively crossed about her chest.

_What's up_, Regina almost wanted to laugh at the question—a query that was currently quite a complex one to answer. So, instead of answering, she said the only coherent thought running through her mind: "I love you."

"Do you know how long it's been since you told me that?" Emma shouted. "Eight-fucking-days, Regina. I don't even know what to say to you right now."

"I'm sorry," she refused to scream—refused to escalate the conflict. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, well, you _should_ be."

"I know that; I truly do."

"Why are you so dangerously good at making people feel like shit?"

"Years of practice," the former queen admitted without an ounce of humor. "Please forgive me?"

"Why does it smell like bacon in here?" Emma side-stepped the question, confused by the scent.

"Because I made macaroni and cheese for dinner."

"With bacon?"

"Yes."

"My favorite," Emma processed. "I guess you really are sorry; otherwise you wouldn't risk the artery clogging."

"I am."

"I'm so pissed off," Emma reiterated, refusing to fully accept the apology that had been offered. "But I guess bacon is a step in the right direction."

Regina smiled at her—trying hard to swallow the guilt she felt for making the woman she loved so upset. She was distracted, however, when she noticed that Emma's silk blouse was covered in dark, wet stains. "What's on your shirt?"

"Mud," Emma explained, as she looked down at the mess. "You're not the only one who is allowed to have a shitty day."

"What happened?"

"I had to break up a fight."

"Was anyone injured?"

"No, the only fatality was the shirt."

"I can get the stains out easily. Rest assured that shirt will live to see another day. It's one of my favorites on you."

"You're terrible at sucking up." Her wife allowed a smirk to creep onto her lips. "Seriously, Regina, you're the worst at it."

"I am _not _sucking up—I really do like that shirt."

"I love you, too," Emma added, the statement she had omitted earlier in the conversation. "But I truthfully haven't loved whatever the hell has been happening lately. I know you get frustrated with this town….with my parents and with everyone. But you _can't_ take it out on me. I know I screw up a lot but this time I definitely didn't do anything to deserve your wrath."

"You didn't."

"Besides, that's why there's a pile of travel books sitting on my nightstand."

"What do you mean?"

"When you get to that dark place, you _have_ to tell me. There's a whole giant world out there left for us to see. When you need a break, you just say the word and I'll take you anywhere you want to go. We still have to take Henry to see, like, the Grand Canyon and Mount Rushmore and crap. And I still need to take you to London to learn about _this_ world's royalty."

And Regina, suddenly, froze.

She had been so consumed with worry about how this pregnancy had come to be in the first place that she hadn't stopped to consider whether it was something Emma even wanted. There would be no time for jetting off on weekend vacations, Regina knew. Not for a very, very long time.

"That's sweet, dear," she managed to respond.

"It's just way too soon in our marriage for us to be fighting like this, you know?"

"Yes, I know—it was my fault."

"Yeah, well, I'm not going to argue with that. But I _am_ going to go change, 'cause I'm pretty sure I smell really gross."

"I will go heat up dinner while you do."

Regina knew she was about to clog her arteries for nothing.

Because, she knew, this simply wasn't going to be the night she broke the news.

* * *

If Emma thought Regina's behavior in the past few weeks had been weird, her wife's behavior in the last few days was a million times worse.

Every night Emma came home to one of her favorite meals—but Regina was oddly quiet and still didn't look like herself.

And now the savior was more nervous than she was pissed. Because she was starting to wonder what the hell Regina was hiding. They didn't keep secrets—and there was obviously _something _unsaid between them.

To make matters worse, Emma hadn't slept in days. Regina had been falling asleep at absurdly early hours and Emma had been tossing and turning all night next to her.

Her body was running on coffee and granola bars. She was essentially useless as a sheriff, a mother, a wife and a functioning human. She was, to put it lightly, at the end of her line.

And that was why, as Emma sat at work struggling through her day, she knew she needed to do something she rarely ever did: ask for help.

And she was going to ask for it from the most nauseatingly optimistic person she knew.

She picked up the phone and dialed her mother's number.

"Good-morning," Snow's cheery voice picked up the other end. "How are you?"

"Hey," Emma said, thankful she answered. "I really need to talk."

"What's going on? Is something _new_ with you?"

"I'm just freaking out over here. I think Regina wants to break up or something. Do you think that's possible?"

"What are even you talking about?" Snow instantaneously replied. "Of course it isn't possible. That's nowhere even near possible."

"I don't know," Emma sighed into the receiver. "I need you to help me figure out how to fix this—or help me figure out what I even need to fix, actually."

The line went silent for what Emma thought was an uncomfortable amount of time. "Are you still there?" she finally asked.

"Sweetheart, I am _so _sorry—but I have to go."

"_What?" _

"There's been an emergency."

"Bullshit," Emma called her out. "I'm the Sheriff. I'm calling you from the Sheriff's station. There isn't any emergency. What the hell are you doing right now that's more important than helping me?"

"Your father needs me."

"Mom," Emma involuntarily yelled the word she rarely ever used. "_I _need you."

"I love you so much. I'm sorry about this."

Before Emma could protest any further, she heard the dial-tone.

The savior was starting to sense a theme—all of the people she cared about most apologizing to her over and over as they told her they loved her while, simultaneously, doing absolutely nothing to show it.

And, all at once, Emma was transformed back into that scared little lost girl with no clue what to do next.

* * *

"_David_," Snow came dashing into their bedroom, entirely heartbroken by the conversation she just had with her daughter. "Help me."

"What's wrong?" The prince looked up from the paper he was reading—he was simply trying to enjoy his day off—but things had been anything but simple the past few weeks.

"I'm going to tell her."

"You are _not _going to tell her."

"But she's so upset. She thinks Regina hates her. I just hung up on her because I didn't know what to say. I have to tell her. I can't let her think that. I can't believe this is happening. Why is _everything_ with the two of them such a damn fiasco?"

"If you tell her, Regina will _never _forgive you," David reminded her. "And we'd all rather not live through that again, right?"

"But, why? Why doesn't she just tell her, already?"

"I don't know—But, Mary-Margaret, we can't break her trust when we _barely_ have it to begin with."

"This is going to physically kill me," Snow launched herself on to the bed and dramatically shoved her face into her pillow. "I'm not going to live to meet this baby because I'm going to _die_."

"You need to take deep breaths," he soothingly rubbed her back.

Though he was happy to comfort her, he was about ready to launch himself off the nearest tall building. He hated drama - and he had married into a never-ending soap opera.

Feeling like he needed to do something, David picked up his cell phone, scrolled to Regina's number and clicked new message.

**David: You have to tell Emma. **

Surprisingly, he received a reply immediately.

**Regina: I will tell her when I see fit. **

Normally, he would be inclined to agree. Except he didn't know how much longer any of them could take this.

**David: Emma is a mess and Snow is hyperventilating in front of me right now. Do you REALLY want to test her secret-keeping abilities much longer?**

He wouldn't let this turn into the next decade-long feud. He would make sure Snow kept the secret, even if he had to barricade the door until Regina summoned the nerve.

* * *

Emma was _so_ ready to get to the bottom of this.

She marched into town hall, completely prepared for a confrontation.

They were married, for Christ's sake; Emma could simply_ ask_ her wife what the hell was happening. She had been trying to give Regina whatever time and space she needed to sort it through—but she was done waiting-waiting had gotten them nowhere.

"Hey, Sarah," Emma greeted Regina's assistant, as she walked into the Mayor's foyer.

"Oh, hi—thank God," the young woman looked up from her desk. "I'm_ so_ glad you came in."

"You are?"

"You're here to take stuff home to Mayor Mills, right? I really need her signature on about a hundred different things."

"Take stuff home?" Emma asked, as she processed the statement. "You mean Regina's not here?"

"No?" Sarah replied, confused as to why she was delivering the message. "She was here this morning but she left at, like, 9:30 a.m."

"And she said she was going home? Was she feeling sick?"

"I think so, but honestly she was super vague about why she was leaving. I didn't think it was any of my business to ask."

"Yeah, of course, right."

The phone rang, Sarah giving it a death glare Emma thought she must have picked up from her boss.

"This thing is ringing off the hook today. I'm sorry, I have to take it. But there's a pile of papers on the Mayor's desk—can you grab them? I put Post-its where she needs to sign. And tell her I said to feel better."

"Sure, no problem."

Emma walked into Regina's office, a place where they had countless confrontations that first year in Storybrooke. It seemed so much warmer to her these days—perhaps because it was filled with family pictures.

She sat down in her wife's chair and briefly ran her fingers over the frame that sat on it—their wedding picture—one of her favorites. But, then, something more intriguing caught her eye: a still-open laptop with a still-open Word document that contained her name.

_Emma, _

_I simply cannot find the right words to _

And then it ended.

She felt like someone punched her in the gut. Because she knew her instincts were right—Regina _was_ trying to tell her something. And from the looks of how much she was struggling through it, Emma assumed it couldn't be good.

* * *

_Emma is a mess. _

Regina stared at David's message and promptly burst into tears—she was certain she was the cause of Emma's emotional state—and that was truly the last thing she wanted.

But she had failed over and over again to find the right way to tell her wife that they were having a baby—an impossible baby—a baby Regina wanted so damn badly but was too scared to believe was even real.

"Just say it already," she unexpectedly heard a voice from the bedroom doorframe. "Just do it."

"Emma?" Regina looked up at her wife and then to her watch. "What are you doing home?"

"I should ask you the same thing. I went to your office and found out from Sarah that you left hours ago. What happened?"

"I don't know; I just needed to not be at work."

"So, get it over with already," the Savior repeated as she walked into the room. "Tell me you regret getting married."

_"What?"_ Regina shrieked at the horrific suggestion. "How could you think that?"

"Let's see… you spent last week yelling at me for everything and this week all you've been doing is crying, apologizing and making me my favorite meals."

"Oh." Regina realized how it all looked—that the reason for Emma's state was more than just stress. Regina had, unintentionally, hit her wife's biggest nerve. "You think that I'm going to leave you?"

"What else am I supposed to think?"

"Come here," she instructed, as she patted the spot next to her on the bed. "Sit down with me."

"You're already sick of having me around," Emma whispered, as she followed the instructions. "After only two months?"

"I am certainly _not _sick of you. I will never be sick of you."

"You have to tell me what I'm doing wrong. I can fix it if you let me."

"My little orphan," Regina sighed, as she intertwined their hands. "You're not hearing me: You are perfect. There is nothing for you to fix."

"Then I don't get it," Emma snuggled her head in the crook of the former queen's neck. "Because I _know _something is happening—something big."

"You're right."

"Please tell me, then? Because I'm making up all of these terrible scenarios in my mind. Like, on the way over here, I came up with at least ten different horrible things you could be trying to tell me."

"Okay." In her typical fashion, Regina had tried too hard to find the right words, the right moment. But _this _was the moment: with tears running down her face and Emma's head on her chest. She gathered her courage and uttered the words for the first time out loud. "I'm pregnant."

When Emma said nothing, she was somewhat worried that the Savior had stopped breathing altogether.

"_You_ got me pregnant," she clarified, just in case there was any doubt. "We're having a baby."

"What?" Emma lifted her head and looked directly into Regina's unsure eyes. "But h-how?"

"Honestly, dear, I don't have a lot of answers for you."

"_I _got you pregnant? You're pregnant? We're having a baby?"

"According to this," Regina took out the pregnancy test she had been carrying around in her pocket. "Indeed, we are."

"_Regina_," Emma's hand flew to her wife's stomach. "There's a baby in there? Because of magic? Our _magic_ got you pregnant?"

"I have to assume that is the only way it's possible."

"Oh my God," Emma whispered, as she gently rubbed Regina's abdomen. "This is surreal."

"I'm sorry for how I've been acting, I just..."

"No," Emma suddenly jumped up—horror in her voice, she began to pace back and forth. "I was such a bitch to you for being a bitch to me and it was because you're_ pregnant_. I am the worst person ever."

"That's not even close to true."

"How long have you known?"

"Four days."

"Were you afraid to tell me? Because I was being mean to you? Christ, I'm _so _sorry. That's why you were cooking all those meals. You were trying to tell me—and I was too busy punishing you because I thought you were going all Evil Queen on me—I'm awful."

"I didn't tell you because it's taken me four days to even _begin _to process it myself," Regina clarified. "And, maybe, also….because of London."

"London?" Emma stopped in her tracks. "What do you mean?"

"You want to see it and the whole world with me. It might be a while before we get to go anywhere. I am fully aware that _this_ wasn't our plan. I'm just worried it's not what you want."

"A baby that's half me and half you? You think I don't want that? I'm, like, about to break down from joy. I don't even know…I never thought we could get so lucky."

"I just wasn't sure that you would want it _now_."

"I didn't want Henry when he showed up at my apartment. I didn't want to be with you the first year I knew you. The universe seems to have a way of telling me what I want before I even know I want it."

"I suppose that's true."

"London is always going to be there," Emma sat back down on the bed. "So let me be super clear about this: I could not possibly be any happier that you are pregnant."

"That is a huge relief."

Regina felt Emma's gaze dig into her—her wife studied her face with sudden curiosity before asking: "Is this what _you_ want?"

"Yes," she admitted, "more than anything in the entire world."

"Then how come you don't seem all that happy about it?"

"Because I'm completely terrified."

"Why? You're already the best mom ever."

"To Henry," Regina explained. "But Henry was not created by magic."

"Yeah, you don't have to tell me twice. Henry was created in the backseat of a car—least magical conception, ever."

"Emma, I'm being very serious," she scolded her wife's attempted humor. "We both know all magic comes with a price."

"No, this is different."

"How do you figure?"

"Because if I got you pregnant that means it's the magic of true love. And that can't be a bad thing."

"Then why did Gold predict it?" Regina snapped. "If it's a good thing why the hell did he taunt your mother with it two years ago?"

"He sees the future all the time but he never seems to know what it actually means. I think Neverland was pretty much case in point."

"But," the brunette protested. "Maybe that stick is incorrect."

"That rarely ever happens."

"Do you know what also rarely happens, dear? A woman getting another woman pregnant."

"Yeah—but—we've got _magic_."

"And what if Gold slipped something in my drink when I wasn't looking to make it _seem_ like I'm pregnant?"

"Why and how would he even do that?"

"Why and how did he have a jar of my tears sitting in his shop?"

"Valid point," Emma admitted. "But, _still_."

"What if he needs the baby for something? What if this is part of one his grand plans? I don't want a child to be brought into this world for the sole purpose of fulfilling some bizarre role."

"What could he possibly need?"

"I have no idea—just like I had no idea he needed the curse to find his son. He takes advantage of what people want—we want love and family—and he knows it."

"I don't know, Regina—everything is so calm with him now. He's got Belle. He's sort of got Neal…I feel like he's under control."

"Perhaps," she conceded. "But I'm just not going to allow myself to be happy until I have concrete proof there is _actually_ something to be happy about."

"We have to get you to a doctor."

"And just what, exactly, are we supposed to do about that?" Regina ranted. "The only doctor in this town is_ Frankenstein_ and we can't go to a doctor outside of Storybrooke because we can't possibly explain this situation to anyone with an _actual_ medical degree."

"Yeah, we can't take this outside of Storybrooke," Emma knew. "But Whale is a pretty good doctor. I feel like he could handle this."

"I don't trust him; I don't trust anyone."

"You trust me, right?"

"Well, obviously, yes."

"Then trust that I will protect this baby— I would never let Dr. Whale or Gold or anyone hurt either one of you."

"I know that," Regina softened.

"Did you hear that, little one?" Emma, goofy smile spread across her face, spoke directly to Regina's stomach. "I'm going to protect you."

"Please, don't do that...not yet."

"Look, I know you're trying to prevent yourself from getting hurt and I can allow that for now. But I'm going to keep on being optimistic and you can't stop me."

"Sometimes I despise those Charming genes of yours."

"Speaking of that, you realize my parents are going to _totally_ freak out about this, right?"

"Actually, my love, your parents already know."

"How could they already know?"

"Your mother bought me the pregnancy test. She is the one who suspected it in the first place. She came over here demanding I take it."

"She figured out you were pregnant before _you_ did?"

"Yes."

"That actually explains why she's been avoiding me."

"I suppose that was the only way she could manage to successfully keep her mouth shut."

"So, wait," Emma suddenly realized, "you're telling me that my parents know you're pregnant but they don't know that I know you're pregnant?"

"That is correct."

"Um, do you know what this means?"

"No," Regina tried to follow. "Should I?"

"This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to mess with them, and if we don't take advantage of it, I will _never_ forgive us."

"Mess with them? What do you mean?"

"Seriously, this is going to be_ just_ like that episode of Friends where everyone finds out that everyone knows that Chandler and Monica are dating."

"I have absolutely no clue what you are talking about."

"Basically, it's going to be hysterical…but it's also going to be a _little_ mean."

"Further proof that you're my soul mate," Regina laughed for the first time in weeks. "Go on, I'm all ears."

"Alright," Emma smirked. "So, here's the plan…."


	3. Life is Love

**Thanks for your patience for this update. Finals for my first semester of my PhD program nearly killed me. But now I am done for a whole month so please expect more regular updates. Yay! **

******Also, if there is anything in particular you want to see over the span of this fic please let me know in the reviews. I definitely have a very specific overarching plan here but I'm always open to incorporating what you want to see, too. **

**Thanks for reading! :) And love to my beta FlyYouFools for pretty much literally talking me off the edge of insanity with this chapter ;) **

* * *

Snow heard the aggressive, urgent knock on the apartment door and knew it could only be her daughter on the other side. She quickly got up from the couch and mentally prepared herself to swallow Regina's news for the extent of Emma's unexpected visit. She _could_ do this, she reminded herself—she could keep a secret.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing here?" she asked, opening the door to an even-more-than-usually disheveled Emma. "And what's with the suitcase?"

"I need to crash here for a while," her daughter huffed, as she pushed her way into the apartment dragging her luggage behind her. "That's cool, right?"

"Why would you need to stay here?"

"Because," Emma stared at her intently, "I'm leaving Regina."

There was a time Snow would've certainly sold her soul to hear those very words. Back in the beginning, when it was impossible for her to understand why Emma would willingly choose to be with the former Evil Queen, those words were all she could ever hope for.

Which was why it surprised her just how disturbing she now found the thought of Emma and Regina separating.

"I tried to talk to you earlier but you were too busy with your fake emergency bullshit." Emma plopped down on the couch and swung her feet up onto the coffee table. "This is what I was trying to talk to you about."

"No, no, no," Snow vigorously protested as she chased after her apparently still-clueless daughter. "You said you were afraid that Regina wanted to break up with _you_."

"Exactly," Emma offered a smug grin. "So, I beat her to it."

"That is the worst idea I've ever heard. She doesn't want to break up—that's completely in your head."

"But I can't put up with her shit anymore. You don't understand what's been going on lately."

"No_: You're_ the one who doesn't understand what's been going on lately!"

"I can have my old room back, right? Until I figure out what to do?"

It was just like Regina, Snow thought, to let things get this out of hand—to push Emma to the breaking point. She was the only person who could hide good news long enough for it to turn into a complete disaster.

"David!" She screeched for her husband at the top of her lungs, internally admitting defeat. There was just no way she could handle this debacle alone. "Get down here, please!"

Moments later, Charming tentatively entered the living room, immediately sensing the tension. "What's wrong?" he asked, as his gaze bounced between the two most important women in his life.

"Your daughter has just informed me she is leaving Regina and would like a place to stay."

"Emma?" He turned to her, equal parts concerned and confused. "I know that can't be right."

"But it is. You guys were dead-on from the beginning; she's seriously never going to change."

"You're in love with Regina," David stated, matter-of-factly. "And she's in love with you."

"You can't stay here," Snow added. "You have to go back home."

"Uh, guys, I hate to break it to you, but I don't_ have_ to do anything."

"Yes, you do, actually." Snow felt her desperation to spill the truth growing stronger by the second. "You're an adult, despite how rarely you act like one, and you made a commitment to be a _family_. You're married!"

"Why do you even care?" Emma pressed. "I'm sure there are plenty of other queens in the forest or whatever."

Snow felt like she no longer needed to wonder what dealing with a teenage Emma would've been like—because this stubborn, defiant behavior was reminiscent of a rebellious youth.

And, yes, _exactly_: There were quite literally hundreds of other kings and queens in the forest. But Emma had picked the only one who held the power to make their already-complicated lives a hundred times more complex. And Mary-Margaret understood there was certainly no turning back now.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She finally snapped. "After what you put us through to get us to accept Regina? Do you even know how many nights we sat up sick to our stomachs about it? But you insisted that she was the person you were meant to be with. And we believed you."

"I guess I fucked up." Emma looked at her parents with puppy dog eyes as she asked, "You'll still love me, _right_?"

"Sweetheart, our love for you is beside the point…."

But the impending lecture was cut short by the sound of the apartment door swinging open and violently slamming against the wall.

"Did you _really_ think I was going to allow you to walk out on me?"

Regina, looking as commanding and threatening as ever, stood with her hands on her hips. She marched toward Emma with vicious ferocity.

"Christ, Regina," Emma spat, turning her head but not moving from her spot on the couch. "You followed me here?"

"We weren't done speaking."

"Yes, we were."

"We're leaving—get your things."

"No, I don't want to leave. What are you going to do? Drag me out unwillingly?"

"If I have to," Regina threatened, as she towered over her wife. "Stand up when I am speaking to you, Emma."

"Uh, no thanks—I'm good."

"I said stand up," Regina grabbed Emma by the arm and pulled up to eye-level. "Let me be perfectly clear about something: You will _not_ leave our son."

"Henry dealt with us apart before—he can do it again."

"I can't believe I was stupid enough to marry you."

"Right," Emma snorted, "'said the evil bitch to the savior."

"S_top_," Snow screamed, as she watched the preposterous scene unfold. "Regina, you_ have_ to tell…"

"Stay out of this, Snow White."

"Yeah, Mary-Margaret, stay of it."

"But…"

"But nothing," Regina growled in her direction, "be quiet before I_ make_ you be quiet."

Every once in a while, Snow was reminded just how scared she was of the woman her daughter married. Despite how far they had _technically_ come, it only took a millisecond for Snow to feel the fear all over again.

"True love requires work, you know," Regina continued yelling at Emma. "I thought that knowledge was in your DNA. But, here I am, having to educate yet another idiot Charming."

"What _is_ in my DNA is hating you."

"Is that so?"

"Yup, that's so."

"You're such a pathetic coward. Marriage isn't supposed to be easy, unlike fooling your gullible parents—which is clearly the easiest thing in all of the realms."

"Yeah," Emma screamed back, never relenting her furious tone, "because they'd be fucking crazy to think I'd ever leave my gorgeous, amazing, _pregnant _wife!"

The women fell silent—looked at each other—and then at Snow and Charming. Regina practically collapsed into Emma's arms, laughing hysterically into her shoulder.

_"W-what?" _Snow whispered, her mind unable to process the sudden change in their demeanor.

"End scene," Emma announced dramatically as she bowed, still holding her wife's hand. "And the Oscar goes to: Regina Swan-Mills for her revitalized role as the Evil Queen. Well done—that will go down as the performance of the century."

"You weren't half bad yourself, dear. That line about hating me being in your DNA wasn't even scripted. You're quite the improviser. Perhaps we could go on tour."

"You were kidding?" David was the first to fully understand. "That was deranged—and downright cruel."

"Oh, come on, that was hysterical," Emma smirked. "You should've seen your faces. I mean, when I heard you already knew our big news I just couldn't resist. Seriously, you guys are way too gullible."

"For the record," Regina chimed in. "I know_ I'm _supposed to be the evil one but this was your daughter's idea."

"I'm sure you protested vigorously," Charming deadpanned as he crossed his arms.

"Not quite."

"Wait." Snow finally felt her heartbeat returning to a normal pace as she digested the reality of the situation. "So, you told her?"

"Keep up," Emma teased. "Yeah, she told me."

"_That's_ why I hung up on you earlier." She rushed to her daughter's side, relieved she could finally explain—thankful it was at long last out in the open; she hardly had time to care about the joke they found so incredibly amusing. "I—I didn't know what else to do."

"I know; it's totally fine—trust me, everything makes sense now."

Regina stepped back and allowed Snow to embrace Emma.

"Congratulations," she whispered to her daughter. She felt her husband approach and wrap his strong arms around them both, as he happily joined in the celebration.

Snow knew that Regina was standing awkwardly behind them—which was precisely why Emma was trying her hardest to see over their shoulders. She knew that Emma wanted, more than anything, was for her wife to be part of this family hug.

Because, sure, it was probably a little unusual that the woman carrying the child wasn't being enthusiastically congratulated, that she was all but a footnote of this moment.

But there was only so much that Snow could give and only so much that Regina was willing to take from her, anyway.

As soon as her parents let go, Emma quickly ran back to Regina's side and peppered her face with kisses; she was determined to make up for the lack of fondness her parents were willing to show.

"Why isn't Henry here?" David questioned, ignoring the couple's affection. "Where is the soon-to-be big brother?"

"Oh, we decided we didn't want to tell the kid until after we go to the doctor."

"And when will that be?"

"Tomorrow morning," Emma told them.

"Good," Snow nodded. "But you're also going to need the opinion of someone who knows a bit more about the magic of true love."

"Yes," Regina agreed. "I asked Tinkerbell to come over tomorrow afternoon—she doesn't know why yet, of course, but I'm certain she will be able to help."

"Tinkerbell?" Snow asked skeptically. "But she is not experienced enough for something as _big_ as this."

"She is perfectly capable—and, more importantly, she's my friend."

"But she was out of practice for years, Regina."

"It doesn't matter, I trust her. And this is, frankly, none of your…"

"_Hey_," Emma intervened, "only _fake_ fighting is allowed today, right?"

"I understand your concern, Snow." Regina, forever responsive to Emma's pleas for civility, softened her tone. "But I've already made up my mind."

"It's your decision."

"I have appreciated your discretion over the past few days as well as your overall concern for my health and well-being," Regina continued, sounding suspiciously like Emma had put the grateful words in her mouth.

"It wasn't a problem."

"Do you two want to stay for dinner?" David offered. "I was going to make spaghetti."

"I would prefer to go home," the brunette replied. "I'm quite tired."

"But not too tired to mess with us," Snow quipped.

"Well, I'm never too tired for _that."_

"Alright," David agreed. "But we'll have to celebrate together—once Henry knows?"

"Deal," Emma said. "Regina, could you just give me a minute alone with my parents?"

"Of course, love. I will meet you in the car."

Emma tossed her wife the keys and Regina quietly made her exit.

"We're so happy for you," David reiterated, when the three of them were alone. "We're thrilled—we've been thrilled since the moment we found out."

"I want to thank you both—seriously. It's like Regina said—I know you were really worried about us and I just—I appreciate it—I appreciate you going to Regina and helping her when you realized that something wasn't right."

"Of course, sweetheart."

"But I also feel like I need to tell you that when I suggested to Regina that we play this prank on you, there _was_ something that made her think twice about doing it. I swear, you guys—I swear there was a part of her that was afraid that if I came to you and told you that I wanted to leave her—that you might support it."

"But that reaction back there was genuine," Charming insisted.

"I know that, and you know that. But, sometimes, I think Regina still doesn't know that."

"Emma," Snow said tenderly, "I don't know how we can try any harder with her."

"Maybe you can't," Emma conceded. "Maybe there really isn't anything else either one of you can do to make her feel like she has your support. But, if there is, it would really help. Because she hid it well tonight, but she is completely freaked out and overwhelmed."

"Okay," Snow nodded—though she wasn't quite sure what, exactly, Emma wanted from them. She truly felt like they had gone above and beyond acceptance of the former queen. "We'll try."

"And what about you?" David asked. "Are _you_ overwhelmed yet?"

"I wasn't until Regina suggested that….that maybe…that there's something wrong with the baby… you know, because of magic."

"But, Emma, the magic of true love could never be harmful."

"That's actually exactly what I said," she agreed with her father. "But there's just a part of me that wonders—because we've all seen magic mess people up pretty badly. I guess…I don't know, having a magic baby? I don't think it's what we would've chosen, to be perfectly honest."

Snow suddenly felt the urge to cry at her daughter's statement-because she felt like truer words about their lives had never been uttered. There was so much around them that they could never have imagined, that they never would have asked for.

"None of this is what we would've chosen," she replied. "Is it?"

"I guess not," the Savior laughed, missing her mother's sudden sorrow. "And yet, I still feel like I won the lottery somehow."

"Call us tomorrow after your appointment?"

And with a nod and one last hug for both of her parents, Emma was gone.

* * *

The next morning Emma was applying her eyeliner in the bathroom when Regina came barging in and knelt in front of the toilet.

This, apparently, was what Regina had been hiding for the past few weeks—this was why her wife had been so cranky. The blonde silently scolded herself for being so dense as to have missed it.

But now she had the chance to make up for it. Emma swiftly knelt behind Regina, holding back her wife's hair with one hand and rubbing her back with the other. "I've got you," she repeated over and over again.

It startled Emma, just how long it went on for. As she watched, she realized she had never seen Regina sick—not like this. There had been the occasional cold, the bad bout of cramps, a bit of seasickness in Neverland - but she had never seen her wife truly ill.

"Are you alright?" she lovingly asked when Regina finally lifted her head.

"I think so," the former queen grunted, through a few lingering coughs. "But_ that's _new."

"What is?"

"I—uh," Regina gestured to the contents of the toilet, the startled look on her face apparent. "It's purple."

Emma glanced down and noticed that, indeed, through chunks of what looked like Regina's breakfast, was a mysterious purple liquid. "Did you just throw up _magic_?" she asked, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head.

"Yes."

"Has that ever happened to you before?"

"Never."

"What does it mean?"

"I don't know," Regina exhaled as she sat down on the bathroom floor, her back against the tile wall. "I don't have the slightest clue."

Emma felt her very own bout of nausea coming on— she detested when Regina didn't have the answers. It was never, ever a good thing. It made her feel an all-too-familiar sense of impending doom.

She began to stand up—to reach for a cup on the counter-but Regina's arm firmly held her in place. "What are you doing?" the brunette asked.

"We should show Tink," Emma explained what she felt was an ingenious idea. "Like, you know, show her a sample?"

"No, that's absolutely repulsive," the former queen venomously snarled. "You're going to hand our good friend a cup of my vomit and ask her to, what? Analyze it? I thought I successfully rid you of your street-like behavior—what kind of savage are you?"

"OK, then—I guess we're vetoing that."

"I'm sorry," Regina cringed, as if she had only just heard how cruel her response was. "Emma, I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"No, don't do that—it's _not_ fine at all." Regina climbed into Emma's lap, wrapped her arms around her wife's neck and brought their lips together. But, milliseconds later, she pulled back, looking even more dismayed. "Oh—I'm so sorry, I just kissed you with vomit breath."

"Yeah, but I still liked it," Emma couldn't help but laugh at how embarrassed Regina seemed. "Please stop apologizing."

"I get mean when I'm scared."

The statement was an admission of guilt, a disclaimer, a warning of things to come.

"Do you?" She sarcastically feigned shock. "No way, never—I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm really, really scared."

Admittedly, Emma now felt genuinely scared, too. "I'm sure it's nothing to be worried about," she lied.

"Please, Emma, don't let me be mean to you; you don't deserve it—and I don't want to hurt you."

"Just focusing on growing our kid, alright? As long as you're doing that, you're not hurting me."

"Thank you."

"Now—let's get you ready so we can go see Whale."

The Savior was grateful they were on their way to the see the doctor because all of her former confidence had dissipated in the last five minutes.

She couldn't help but wonder: If true love couldn't hurt anyone, why on God's earth was Regina puking it into their toilet?

* * *

Emma and Regina appeared in a puff of purple smoke in the middle of Dr. Whale's personal office.

"What the hell?" The Doctor looked up from his desk, clearly startled by their unexpected and unconventional arrival.

"Hey," Emma greeted him casually, as she offered him a box from the town's most famous establishment. "We brought you doughnuts from Granny's."

"OK?" He looked at the pair of them, entirely baffled. "Except I don't remember ordering breakfast. And I didn't know Granny sent the Mayor and the Sheriff on deliveries."

"It's not a delivery," Emma cut to the chase. "We actually need an appointment."

"That's why I have a secretary? And, also, a front door."

"This is sensitive," she explained. "And we need to be your _first_ appointment."

"You know, you've got a whole lot of nerve assuming that I will rearrange my entire morning just because the two of you show up here with..."

"Do you think we'd be doing this if we didn't have a really, really good reason?"

Dr. Whale paused—he ignored Emma and suddenly addressed the brunette. "Regina, are you alright?"

Emma was certain that it was the uncharacteristic silence of her usually intimidatingly-bold wife that convinced the doctor something was amiss.

"Do you know how to work a sonogram?" Emma responded, as Regina ignored the question addressed to her and remained practically hidden behind the Savior. "Are you, like, qualified to do that?"

"Of course," he rolled his eyes, insulted by her doubt. "Why?"

"Before I tell you…. we have doctor-patient confidentially, right?"

"Yes."

"Even if it's something that the town gossips would pay big bucks for?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I've kind of got a monopoly on the medical practice around here. I don't exactly need to accept bribes. And, no offense, but gossip about you two isn't really worth ruining my career."

Emma knew that most people would want to slap Whale across the face for his arrogant response. But, ironically, she also knew it was the hostile declaration that finally persuaded her wife to open her mouth.

"I'm pregnant," Regina declared. "At least, I believe I am."

"Oh?"

"We don't want it all over town," Emma made clear. "And now you're the only person outside the family who knows—so if we find out that people are talking I will personally…"

"Your threats truly aren't necessary."

"You'll help us, then?"

"Walk down the hall, take a left—go to exam room three," he instructed. "A nurse will be right in."

"No nurses," Emma corrected. "Just you."

"Okay," he gave in, without further questions. "I'll be there in five minutes."

* * *

Regina was freezing and frightened.

In the 28 years she had been in Storybrooke, she had never once gone to see a doctor. She had taken Henry, sure—but she had never spent a single moment as a patient.

Emma had warned her all about what this appointment would entail—and as thorough a job as her wife had done, nothing could've prepared her for just how exposed and vulnerable she felt.

She held onto Emma's hand so tightly she was afraid she was breaking bone. But Emma didn't seem fazed. In fact, the Savior's grip was just as tight. Regina understood, quite clearly, that Emma was infinitely more nervous than she would ever let on.

Regina tried to focus her mind as she listened to Dr. Whale rant about how fascinating he found the science behind artificial insemination. She realized they probably should've spent more time talking about what they were going to tell him about this conception—but she just didn't want to deal with that yet. They needed to get past the first step: confirming she was actually pregnant.

"Alright," Dr. Whale said—when neither woman responded to him. "I guess we're not talking, then."

"Sorry," Emma managed to mumble back. "We're just nervous."

"It's fine; we can skip the small talk—Regina, are you ready?"

She nodded, despite what a lie it was. She wasn't sure she would ever be ready.

When the ice-cold gel hit her bare stomach, Regina mentally prepared herself for the worst. She had spent so much time over the past few days fighting off images of this child, a second-go at motherhood, a growing Swan-Mills family. It was too perfect to be true. Emma and Henry's presence in her life was more than she ever deserved—she refused to believe the universe would be willing to grant her anything more.

But she could no longer put off the moment of truth.

"You were right," Whale told her almost immediately. "You are definitely pregnant."

She felt Emma's lips on her forehead, on her cheek, on her own lips.

But what she heard—well, she was certain it was greater than any sound that had ever or would ever exist.

_The heartbeat—_she took in the soothing rhythm as she looked at the teary-eyed Savior.

"Right there," Whale pointed to the monitor, "that's your baby."

"It is?" she whispered, completely awestruck at how such a tiny image could change their universe in such an enormous way.

"And it looks like you're about eleven weeks along."

"Eleven weeks?" Regina gasped, as she did the math. "I'm almost three months pregnant?"

"Wow," Emma processed, her mouth hanging open. "That's insane—we, uh, had no clue."

"But I've been…I didn't know—I never even thought… I've been drinking wine and…"

"Regina—relax," Whale assured her. "The baby is perfectly healthy."

"You're certain?" she pushed. "Completely healthy?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"So, everything looks _normal_? Everything is normal and good?"

"Yes."

"Like, _everything-everything_?" It was Emma's turn to interrogate the doctor. "Like, as in, our baby looks like every other baby you've ever seen?"

Regina knew immediately her wife's choice of words went a bit too far to go unnoticed.

Dr. Whale furrowed his brow suspiciously before asking, "Is there something you two aren't telling me?"

The couple fell silent and exchanged concerned glances. When Whale caught onto their hesitation he spoke up again. "Look, I cannot do my job unless you are completely honest with me. The best thing for your child is for you to have a good working relationship with your doctor."

"Emma and I were not _trying_ to have a baby," Regina hesitatingly admitted. "I have not been, as you said, 'inseminated' and I certainly haven't cheated on my wife."

"I don't think I understand what you're getting at."

Regina felt like this was only the beginning—the beginning of a lifetime of not knowing how to explain how this happened.

"When Regina and I first got together," Emma continued, "Gold told my mom that Regina was going to get pregnant and he implied it might involve..."

"Magic?" Whale asked. "Are you serious?"

"Completely," the blonde replied.

"Well, I suppose that explains why you're being so weird."

The Doctor remained composed, despite the unusual news he had just received. He looked at the couple sincerely. "I would have no way of knowing this baby wasn't conceived just like any other."

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

"Have you ever heard of this happening?" Regina asked, suddenly feeling like she might just be able to trust him after all. "Where you were from?"

"I had heard rumors that it was possible in worlds with magic, yes."

"But I thought magic had limits, and death and life were included on that list."

"Regina, you and I learned the hard way that dead is dead. But life is different because life is love and, apparently, the two of you have got a surplus."

"I see."

"Truthfully, though, I can only help you with the medical side of this—and as far as that is concerned, your baby is perfectly healthy. But, perhaps, you might want to take a trip to Mr. Gold if you want to know more about the magic behind it."

"Thank you," she nodded; she held back telling him Gold was the very last person on Earth they would ever go see about this.

"Now," he continued, "let's talk about getting you some prenatal vitamins."

* * *

Regina wasn't really sure how they ended up on _their _bench—but, somehow, in the aftershock of the news—their feet had carried them to the infamous spot.

She clung tightly to the printout of the sonogram, which was currently her most precious possession.

"Can we celebrate now?" Emma nudged her with her shoulder. "Please?"

"Not yet," Regina warned. "Not until we know more about the magic."

"That's a shame," her wife pulled out a strawberry-frosted doughnut wrapped in a napkin. "Because I snatched this for you on our way out of the office."

"Well, I'll take that anyway—I'm starving."

"Sorry, what's that?" Emma teased. "I can't hear you over the sound of how sexy you are when you eat things with frosting."

"We'll see if you still feel that way when I'm the size of our house."

"You're resting sexiness is substantially higher than most people, so even when you're the size of the house you'll _still _be sexier than everyone I know."

"What a lovely sentiment, dear."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Emma looked at her with curiosity.

"I was thinking," she began, "before we first slept together you told me you didn't know what our magic would do. Is _this_ what you meant?"

"Like Whale, I had heard rumors," Regina admitted. "Truthfully, I didn't put much stock into them. And I always thought that_ if_ we could conceive a child together, we would have to _try_. I thought we would have to concentrate and focus our magic—I didn't think it would just happen by accident. Otherwise I certainly would've discussed the matter with you."

"No, I know you would've. I didn't mean it like that."

"I also thought I would get you pregnant, not the other way around."

"Why?"

"A long list of reasons…you're younger, you already had Henry, you're the Savior and you have always been the exception to every rule in the known universe. I just never saw this coming."

"I'm glad it's you, though. I think you're really going to like being pregnant, once you stop throwing up so much."

"That would certainly be a step in the right direction," she sighed. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Yeah, let's go talk to Tinkerbell."

"One day you'll be able to say her name without that sarcastic tone in your voice."

"Unlikely," Emma stood up first and then pulled Regina up after her. "But I promise I'll keep trying."

* * *

Regina made it a mere two steps into the foyer of the mansion before she bumped straight into Mary-Margaret and David. "What the hell are you two doing here?" she demanded.

"We want to know what Whale said," David explained. "We couldn't wait for you to call us—mostly because we knew you'd forget to…."

"And we want to hear what Tinkerbell will have to say," Snow added. "She'll be here soon, yes?"

"That key Emma gave you is for _emergencies_," Regina barked at them. "And I have no problem taking it back if you keep abusing it."

"Seriously, guys," Emma winced—embarrassed by their inappropriate and overbearing behavior. "Do we _really_ need to have another conversation about boundaries?"

"Hi," Tinkerbell appeared in the doorway, the group had been oblivious to her arrival. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"No, Hello—not at all," Regina smiled brightly at her. "_You're _not the one interrupting, trust me."

The former queen ushered her friend inside and embraced her in a welcoming hug.

"_Regina_," Tink gasped—she pulled back and looked questioningly into her eyes. "Do you…do you know?"

"That I'm pregnant?" Regina surmised, startled she figured it out so quickly. "Yes, I know; they all know."

"You can tell she's pregnant?" Emma looked puzzled. "Just from hugging her?"

"I—uh," Tinkerbell gently placed her hand on the brunette's stomach. "I've never felt true love so strong—it's a bit overwhelming, to be honest."

"So that's definitely what it is?" Emma anxiously asked. "That's how it happened? So, that's a good thing, right?"

"Let's at least let her take off her coat, dear," Regina replied. "Why don't we all go inside? Apparently, this is going to be a family affair."

* * *

Tink sat on the couch with Emma and Regina—while the Charmings stood a few feet away, trying their best to be seen but not heard.

"When did you find out?" the fairy asked the nervous couple.

"A few days ago," Regina informed her. "We went to see Dr. Whale this morning. He said the baby is healthy—that everything looks normal—but I'm worried—and that's why I called you."

"Why are you worried?"

"I've been feeling my magic much more so than usual—and not in a good way. I feel it bubbling under my fingertips and burning in my throat. It's uncomfortable, bordering on painful."

"This morning she _threw up_ magic," Emma added. "A lot of it—it was purple, like she chugged a bottle of grape juice or something."

"But that doesn't make sense." Tinkerbell tried to wrap her head around the idea. "I'm surprised you have any morning sickness at all…"

"So, it's not normal?" Emma questioned. "That she feels so sick?"

"Not unless…"

"Unless, what?"

Tinkerbell paused—she looked at Regina—and then at Snow and David.

"Just say it," Regina pleaded; she knew that whatever it was, Tink was hesitant to say it in front of the Charmings. "_Please_."

"OK: It's like I said—I've never felt true love so strong—and true love is the lightest, most pure form of magic in the world. If magic so light were to encounter dark magic—it would, theoretically, react by fighting back—by trying to turn that dark magic light."

"Are you suggesting the baby is fighting against Regina's magic?" Emma asked, somewhere between disturbed and offended. She put a protective arm around her wife. "Regina _isn't_ dark."

"Emma, dear, please don't be so naïve."

"Regina isn't dark _anymore_," Tink correctly acknowledged. "But dark magic leaves its scars; it takes years to recover from—centuries even. She may not be using it—but it's still in her."

"I thought when we got married—I just thought it would've been enough," Emma trailed off on a tangent. "What more does she have to do? She's not dark—she barely ever was—she just did what she had to do to survive."

"Darling," Regina turned to her wife, "whatever residual darkness I have left inside of me has nothing to do with _you_ not being enough to fix it. You understand that, yes?"

The blonde nodded and Regina promptly turned her attention back to Tink, every fear and insecurity she ever had appearing dangerously close to becoming reality. "I just need to know—am I hurting our baby?"

"You're not," her friend promised. "But the baby might, completely involuntarily, hurt you."

"By trying to combat her dark magic?" Snow asked, speaking for the first time in the conversation. "The baby is already that powerful?"

"If you think Emma is powerful because of true love—just wait until you meet this kid."

"Wow," David beamed with pride. "Another generation of true love for the Charming line, then?"

"Looks like it," Tink nodded. "But Regina, I need you to understand something—I don't think this is going to be easy on you in the slightest."

"I don't care about that," she said, confidentially. If there was one thing she knew it was that she could handle pain—she had already survived under some of the most horrific conditions imaginable. And then—then she didn't have a light at the end of the tunnel. With Emma, with Henry, with the thought of this child, she knew she could survive anything.

"Uh,_ I_ care," Emma amended. "Regina's going to be OK, right?"

"She'll be fine—but the magic—it's only going to get more intense as the months go on."

"I can take it," the queen repeated.

"But is there anything she can do to help make her feel better?" Emma refused to relent. "Like—anything at all?"

"I'll do some research; I'll see if there's anything specific that will help. I've heard that exercise helps excessive amounts of magic—something about releasing the energy."

"Thank you," Regina nodded. "I hope that you won't mind helping us through this. I'm certain this won't be the last of the questions we have for you."

"It would be my honor. I understand this must be a bit scary. But I promise to look out for your baby—I will protect her like she's my own family."

"_She?" _Emma gasped, not sure she heard correctly. "Did you just say…?"

"Damn it," The fairy scrunched her nose in self-defeat. "I'm sorry; I was trying really hard _not_ to do that."

"It's a girl?" Regina asked, needing the confirmation. "You can tell?"

"Congratulations, you're having a daughter."

* * *

Emma had a nasty habit of waking up anytime Regina left their bed. Regina was certain it was connected to the Savior's longstanding abandonment issues—as if Emma had an alarm that went off alerting her to her wife's absence.

Regina didn't want to get up because she didn't want to wake Emma—but she was also really, really cold and in desperate need of another layer of warmth.

She tried her best to be quiet as she started to move—but it only took milliseconds for Emma to wake up and question her. "Where are you going?" the blonde mumbled.

"To get another blanket; I'm freezing."

"Don't move," Emma protested. "I'll get it for you."

"I can walk five feet to the closet. You had Henry, you should know that."

But Emma was already up and on her way.

"When I was pregnant with Henry I sat in a cell and didn't move for nine months," she called out. "I'm actually going to have very little advice to pass on to you."

"I'm sorry," Regina winced. "You know I despise thinking about you both in there."

Emma returned, climbed back into bed and tossed the fleece blanket over them.

"You need to sleep, Regina."

"We'll have to tell Henry tomorrow, you know."

"I know—but don't think about that now."

That was much easier said than done, she knew. It only took moments for Emma to fall back asleep—but Regina was a different story. She felt nauseous again. Her head was throbbing and the room was, quite literally, spinning.

"You can do whatever you want to do to me over the next six months, my little darling," Regina whispered in the darkness. "As long as, after that, you promise to be happy and healthy for the rest of your life. Do we have a deal?"

"OK," she groaned, as she felt her stomach cramp. "I'll take that as a yes."

She tried to get comfortable beneath the covers but tossed and turned to no avail. "Emma," she snuggled closer to the blonde, "I'm so dizzy."

"Are you okay?" the Savior woke once more. "How can I help?"

Regina took Emma's arms and secured them around her waist. "Like that."

Grounded in Emma's embrace, she closed her eyes and thought of all the good things to come.


	4. The Charming Women

**An update for you that was done in between me hyperventilating over the winter finale and JMO smacking down SQhaters :) **

**Anyway, this chapter sets up A LOT of upcoming plot-lines. I hope you like it! And Merry Christmas to anyone who celebrates! (As always: FlyYouFools saved my life by being a fabulous beta) -xo Dakota **

* * *

When Regina finally fell asleep that night she dreamt of her mother for the first time in years.

She found herself strapped down to the cold metal table in the fish hatchery; the one Greg and Tamara imprisoned her in on that now-infamous day. As she squirmed, trying and failing to set herself free, her eyes searched the room for the villainous duo. But they were nowhere in sight; upon first glance, it appeared she was entirely alone.

Their absence was not the only thing that was different. Regina looked down at her own body and noticed that she was dressed—from head to toe—as the Evil Queen. She could feel the leather material coarse against her skin and noted the long black locks draped far past her shoulders.

"_Emma_," she called out for her Savior. Although she did not want her wife to see her like this, she was desperate to escape. "Are you here? Emma?"

"_I'm afraid she's not." _

Regina recognized the voice immediately; she turned her neck as much as she could, her gaze landing on her mother's slim figure.

Cora was wearing the same black suit she wore the day she died—her hair straight and her lipstick bright red. She leaned her weight against the only other object in the room: the machine. Regina glared at it—wishing she could make it explode with her eyes. It was, after all, the device that almost defeated her—nearly took her life and prevented her from ever getting the chance to fall in love again.

"Mother," Regina frantically whimpered. "Please, you have to get me out of here."

But Cora merely stared at her—she did not respond or move a single muscle in assistance. Instead, her mother tilted her head slightly and observed her with a strictly disapproving glance.

"Mother—_please_?" Regina begged as she fought back against the straps holding her down. "Help me."

"Oh, sweetheart," she answered in a viciously condescending tone. "How am I supposed to help you when you're being so delusional?"

"Delusional? What do you mean?"

"Do you really believe you're capable of raising this child, Regina?"

Instead of answering, Regina whispered: "I love my daughter."

"And I loved you," Cora insisted. "But that certainly didn't stop you from becoming a monster, did it?"

"This is different."

"Why, exactly, is that?" she darkly chuckled. "Because you were 'saved' by the true love of the Savior?"

"You won't take them from me," Regina cried. "You can't."

"Is that so?" Cora raised an eyebrow as she continued to laugh. "We'll see."

And then, without hesitation or remorse, her mother slammed her hand down on the button—the same one Greg had pressed over and over and over again until she was nearly lifeless.

Regina felt the surges of electricity pump through her veins.

And then she screamed.

* * *

Regina sprung up in bed with labored breathing; the threat of her happy ending being ripped from her still heavy on her mind.

"_Emma_," she reached her hand out to touch her wife—to find concrete proof it was a dream and nothing more. "Please be okay."

"Huh?" The Savior, half-conscious and quite confused, rolled over to face her. "I'm fine. Are you?"

"Yes," Regina exhaled in relief, her grasp tight on Emma's forearm. "It was my mother."

"Wait," the mention of Cora caused Emma to promptly sit up and look at Regina inquisitively. "Your mom? What about her?"

"I had a dream."

"Oh," Emma tenderly slipped her hand underneath Regina's shirt and lightly stroked her lower back. "What happened? Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I just want to forget about it."

"Okay." With her other hand, Emma grabbed the remote on the dresser and pointed it at the television. "I feel like we should just admit that we're not sleeping tonight, huh?"

"Unfortunately, I would have to agree." Regina glanced at the clock, which read 4:15 AM. She hated to put Emma through this, but there was nothing she could do. They were a team, a unit connected in every possible way; they were in this together. "Although it seems we've gotten at least a few hours in."

"Yeah," Emma used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe away the beads of sweat still dripping from her wife's forehead. The intimate gesture was followed by an encouraging reminder. "She's gone, Regina."

"I know."

"And _I _never will be."

"I know that, too."

Regina was well aware of the truth behind Emma's words.

But the question her mother posed remained unanswered in her mind. It was one that had been there all along, buried in the depths of her soul and fighting to make its way to the surface.

Leave it to her mother, she thought, to bring it out in the cruelest way possible.

She watched Emma watching TV, certain her angelic wife deserved this child—but she, on the other hand, was not convinced of her own self-worth.

The question her mother prompted was one the whole world would surely ask: What business did the Evil Queen have raising the child of _True Love_?

* * *

The next morning, Emma and Regina sat across from each other at the kitchen table. Emma was showered and dressed—but Regina remained in her pajamas. Both women had not quite recovered from the lack of sleep the night before, but they decided that telling Henry about his sister couldn't wait another moment.

Emma felt a bit like it was Christmas Day—she was jumpy, smiley and restless. She knew that sharing this news with the person they loved most would be a joyous family memory they would always look back on.

Their son came barreling down the stairs and ran into the room in a frenzy. "I slept through my alarm," he growled in their direction. "You guys could've gotten me up! I missed the bus and now I'm going to..."

"Actually, sweetheart," Regina softly interjected. "I'm the one who turned your alarm off."

"Wait—what?" Their son looked up at her—confused as to why his mother, the stickler for punctuality, had allowed this to happen. "Why would you do that?"

"We knew you had study hall first period today. So, we were hoping you could get a little extra sleep and then talk to us for a bit."

"Talk to you? About what? What's going on? Did something happen?"

The string of anxious questions flew out of his mouth as he demanded an immediate explanation. Every time he responded like this, with such ferocious apprehension, they were reminded of just how much he had been through for a boy his age.

"Relax, kid; just sit down for a second, alright?"

"Alright," Henry grabbed the seat next to the Savior. "I'm sitting; now, what's up?"

"Well, you know how your mom hasn't been feeling all that great lately?" Emma began. "We finally decided to go see Dr. Whale to make sure that…"

"_Mom_," he shuddered at the mention of the doctor. "Are you sick?"

"No, I'm fine," Regina calmed him. "But we did get some important news."'

Emma waited for her wife to continue—but Regina paused as if she expected the Savior to complete the job. Emma sensed her nerves and knew she needed a push to follow through.

"Go on," she encouraged as she squeezed Regina's knee under the table. "You should be the one to say it."

"Henry, sweetheart: it turns out that I'm pregnant."

"You're going to be a big brother, kid."

"Seriously?" He questioned, awe-struck by the revelation. "You're having a baby?"

"We want you to know that we weren't planning this," Regina admitted. "If we had been, we would've talked to you about the possibility of expanding the family."

"It was definitely not expected," Emma agreed. "But we're obviously really, really excited about it."

"Um, but that can't be right," Henry stared down at the table; his cheeks flushed a hot shade of red. "Because I learned about—and uh—I thought that…"

Emma almost laughed out loud at their son's attempt to bring up the biological impossibility. "You thought two women couldn't have a baby together, yeah?"

He nodded in confirmation.

"As it turns out, dear, true love is more powerful magic than we even thought."

"Wait, mom, you're saying the baby was made out of _magic_?"

"Yes," Regina established. "The baby was created by the magic your mom and I make when we're…well, _together_."

"That's gross," he grimaced. "I didn't need to know that."

"Henry," Emma light-heartedly scolded. "Come on—a little maturity would be called for right about now—don't you think?"

"It's just sort of weird," he amended. "Does that mean the baby is going to do magic, too?"

"Indeed," Regina confirmed, "because the baby is the product of true love—just like your mom is."

"Oh, okay," he replied—he nervously tapped his fingers against the table before looking back at them. "Can I go to school now? I need one of you to sign me in because I'm late."

Emma saw the quick-flash of disappointment on Regina's face—but the former queen didn't let Henry sense that anything was off. "Of course, dear."

"I'll take you," Emma agreed. "Go get your coat—I'll be right there."

Henry ran out of the room, seemingly more concerned with his tardiness than with his family's big announcement. Emma was disappointed herself, but she certainly understood his shock.

"We didn't even get to tell him we're having a girl," Regina frowned. "Do you think he's okay?"

"Yeah, he's good: just think about how long it took you to process it—and how long it took me to process it, he just needs time."

"You're right. Of course that's it—I'm being selfish, wanting his first reaction to be celebratory."

"He'll be jumping up and down soon enough," she promised. "After I drop him off, should I go to work? Or do you want me to come back home? I don't mind taking off, if you're still feeling sick."

"No, my love—go protect the town. I'm quite alright."

"Call me if you need anything—anything at all—even if it's just, like, a cupcake."

"I will keep that in mind."

"Good," Emma leaned in and kissed Regina and then leaned down and kissed her wife's stomach—a habit she had already happily fallen into. "I'll see you_ both_ later."

* * *

For Emma, the only thing worse than an upset Regina was an upset Henry.

When they left the house, she really had believed he was simply processing the news. But now, as they pulled into the school parking lot, she was beginning to reconsider her diagnosis; the expression on his face seemed far more like sulking.

Perhaps, she feared, they had underestimated how their only child would take the news that he would longer be the center of attention. She decided she couldn't let a whole school day go by without him knowing just how much he meant to them.

"Henry, before we go in there, I just need to say something."

"What is it?"

"You know your mom and I owe you pretty much everything. You brought me to Storybrooke, you got me to believe in magic and you got me to see how truly amazing she is. I may have the title but, personally, I think you're the real savior."

"I don't need some dramatic speech from you right now," he chastised her, as he fidgeted with the zipper on his backpack. "I need to know why you lied to me."

"What do you mean?" Emma searched her mind for what he could be referring to—but she came up empty. "I think your mom and I have been really honest with you. I think we've even been painfully and awkwardly honest with you at times."

"Not her," Henry corrected. "_You_ lied to me."

"About what?"

"You told me you loved my dad when you had me."

"No—kid, that wasn't a lie at all."

"But if you really loved each other then_ I_ would have magic, too."

It was as if he took a baseball bat straight to her gut. She never wanted him to feel inferior because of her less-than-stellar choice of a partner in Neal. She thought they had moved beyond this—she thought Henry understood that her relationship with his father was one of mutual respect.

"I mean, you know I'm still pretty new to all this magic stuff. But from what I understand, there's love and there's _True_ _Love_. Your mom loved Daniel and I loved Neal—but, uh…"

"Whatever," Henry spoke over her. "It doesn't really matter now, does it?"

"It matters because you're upset."

"Let's just go," he opened the car door, abruptly ending the conversation. "Seriously, Emma, you're making me late for geometry."

And that's when she knew she was in deep shit—because he hadn't addressed her as Mom, Ma or anything denoting her parental role.

They were suddenly back to a first-name basis.

* * *

David rang the doorbell at 108 Mifflin Street—with Regina's recent scolding still fresh in his mind, he fought the urge to use his key.

Emma hadn't replied to any of the texts he sent that morning; he was hoping to receive confirmation that his latest idea was, indeed, a good one. But her habit of mindlessly skimming over his messages wasn't about to stop him.

His daughter had presented him with a challenge: Make Regina feel supported. And, despite Mary Margaret's insistence that they had already done more than enough, he was determined to keep trying.

"David," Regina opened the door wearing her silk pajamas; she crossed her arms in disapproval. "Did Emma send you over to babysit me? I told her I'm _fine_."

"No—I actually thought Emma was here. She's not?"

"She went to work," Regina explained, before glancing down at the item in his hands. "What are those?"

He was holding a pair of ridiculously expensive black and purple sneakers that he had, on a whim, bought the night before on his way home from work. He had spotted them in the window of a shop and, suddenly, was hit with this clever strategy.

"Tink said exercising might help you feel better."

"They're for me?"

Conversations with Regina were sometimes like pulling teeth.

She was a strange paradox of a regal leader and the most socially awkward person he had ever encountered. The latter occurred, he noticed, when people unexpectedly showed her kindness.

"Yeah, of course they're for you," Charming confirmed the obvious. "Do you hate them?"

"No," Regina said it as though she was even more surprised than he was. "Did Emma pick them out?"

This, Charming noted, was Regina's other habit: _Emma-Emma-Emma._ She, somehow, managed to bring every conversation they had back to his daughter. And though he certainly didn't mind discussing his pride and joy—he was sure it was the former queen's defense mechanism. Her logic, he understood, was to keep the conversation in the realm of things they had in common. His self-employed mission was to expand that beyond their mutual love for a certain blonde.

"No, I did actually," he told her. "I saw them and they reminded me of you."

"Oh," she took the sneakers into her hands and handled them like they were made of gold. "I've never had a pair before."

"I usually go running every day. I was thinking, maybe, you could join me?"

"I wouldn't want to intrude on your workout."

"I'm inviting you because I'd like you to come. Having a workout buddy is mutually beneficial."

"Well then, I suppose it wouldn't be prudent to ignore Tink's advice."

"Great—we could head out now, if you're feeling up to it."

"I'll need a minute to change into something more appropriate."

"No problem; take as much time as you need."

"If Emma _wasn't_ in on this, Charming—how, exactly, did you know my shoe size?"

Regina's face was smug—as if she had outsmarted him or caught him red-handed. And, in a way, he wished she had—it would have been less awkward than what he was about to tell her.

"I, uh, called Mary-Margaret; she knew your size."

David watched Regina try to swallow the distaste she felt for his wife. "Ah, yes, of course she did."

He wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible. So, he fell back on the weather.

"The sun isn't as strong as it looks this morning; make sure you dress warm."

* * *

Queens didn't run—they didn't need to, and it was below them.

Which was why Regina was suddenly so glad she was no longer Queen.

Her feet, clad in her tightly-tied new sneakers, hit the pavement of the Storybrooke roads. The brisk wind brushed against her cheeks and her lungs drank in the fresh oxygen. More importantly, she felt the excess magic she was carrying dissipate into the air around her.

She was willing to admit she hadn't felt anything remotely as exhilarating or freeing since she had been atop of a horse in the enchanted forest. All of her worries—her problems—they felt so far away. She felt untouchable, unstoppable.

After they had made their way through town, David slowed his pace; her father-in-law eventually stopped all together and leaned against a large tree.

When Regina caught up to him, she was grateful for the rest. She came to a halt and felt momentarily woozy.

"Are you okay?" Charming grabbed her by the elbow to steady her. "Maybe Tink was wrong about this."

"_No_," she protested as she straightened her back and regained her balance. "This is, by far, the best I've felt in weeks."

"Oh—good, I'm so glad to hear that."

"I'm just out of breath I think."

David had insisted she begin with a combination of walking and running. But even the slow-pace was testing her endurance.

"If you put your hands above your head it will help your breathing calm down."

She did as she was told and, for once, she didn't care how ridiculous she looked. She only wished Emma was around to bear witness.

"I am a bit thirsty," she admitted, when her heart-beat returned to its normal rate. "Do you think we could get some water?"

"Of course," he gestured towards Granny's, which was only across the street. "Lead the way."

* * *

When David and Regina entered the diner all conversations stopped and every set of eyes flew straight to them. Charming watched Regina tense up as she held her head high in the face of the unwanted attention.

"Why is everyone staring at me?" She whispered to him; her eyes traveled down to her stomach. "Is it that obvious?"

As logical an assumption as it may have been, he was positive Regina still didn't look pregnant to the average observer. Instead, he had a feeling that it was her uncharacteristic attire of leggings and Emma's hoodie that had the crowd gawking over their mayor.

"No, there's no way they can tell. I'm guessing the looks are because you don't usually leave the house so dressed down?"

"And just why the hell is the sight of me in a pair of sneakers so incredibly fascinating?"

"Come on," he said, as she escorted her towards the counter. He felt suddenly overcome by the need to protect her. He internally laughed at how ridiculous that was, considering she was infinitely more powerful than he would ever be. "Let's just ignore it."

"I need to use the restroom," she told him, before quickly excusing herself. "I'll be right back."

He nodded, took his seat and waved Ruby over.

"Hey, David," the red-head welcomed him. "What are you doing with the daughter-in-law?"

"We were out for a run."

"Well, I suppose that's a better channel for her anger than curses and stuff."

"Hysterical," he deadpanned. "Can I get two water bottles, please?"

"Sure," Ruby spun around towards the fridge, grabbed the bottles and placed them down on the counter. "The town is talking, you know."

"About?"

"About how our Royal Family has been acting rather suspicious lately."

"Suspicious? How so?"

"Well, for starters, Snow has been really jumpy. I've known her forever and it's painfully obvious she's trying to keep quiet about something. Regina has barely been at work, which is unlike her. Plus, now she's out jogging with you; no offense, but that's weird."

"We're bonding; it's not weird."

"Uh, it's _super _weird," Ruby reiterated. "And Emma's been kind of distant—but I guess that's really nothing new."

"Wait," he paused, not fully understanding her last comment. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Come on—you know I love her, but Emma's barely looked at anyone besides Regina in, like, three years."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" She challenged him, placing a hand on her barely covered-up hip. "Who else does she hang out with besides Her Majesty?"

"Are you saying my daughter, the one who saved all of us, has no friends in this town besides her wife?"

"I'm saying the whole town loves Emma to the moon and back. But ever since she got together with Regina, your daughter doesn't really spend time with anyone else."

"I really don't think that's true," the words fell out of his mouth unconvincingly as he tried to remember the last time Emma and Regina had spent a night apart—or spent a night socializing with anyone outside of their family, for that matter.

"Look, I'm not judging—if I married Regina I'd probably never make it out of the bedroom, she's one hot…"

"Okay—you've made your point," David stopped her. "But we're not hiding anything."

"Right—because you'd totally tell me if you were. It's not like you guys have ever kept the town out of the loop before…"

"Ruby, come on."

"I'm just saying: You Charmings aren't _always_ as smooth as you think you are."

"I would have to agree with that, Ms. Lucas," Regina reappeared and sat down next to the Prince. "They most certainly aren't."

"Regina," Ruby laughed, "I hate to break it to you but I was including _you _in that statement."

"But," the brunette disputed, "I am _not_ a Charming."

"The ring on your finger says otherwise."

"No, the ring on my finger says I am married to Emma _Swan_."

"Right—yeah, 'cause that's totally different."

David listened to the conversation and Regina's denial hit him harder than he would've expected.

He had walked Emma down the aisle and given her away to the former queen. And, sure, he had long considered Regina a member of their twisted family tree through her connection to Henry.

But it was only _now _that he looked at her and saw a Charming staring back at him.

"You were really quick on that denial," he said to her as soon as Ruby walked away.

"Well, she was being rather presumptuous."

"Are you saying it's presumptuous for people to consider you a part of our family?"

Regina appeared to be giving deep thought to her response. "I'm not sure," she finally replied.

And right there—in her doubt—was the problem Emma had referred to. He wanted to press the issue further—to tell her he _was_ sure enough for both of them. But he was afraid to push. So, instead, they sat in silence as they both sipped their water.

"Can I get you anything else?" Ruby walked back over moments later. "Or is that all?"

"I believe we'll be heading out now," Regina informed her. "But I'll take a coffee to go."

"Decaf," David abruptly corrected, when he realized her mistake. "Make it a decaf."

"No? I don't drink decaf."

"Yes—you do," he gently nudged her with his elbow, knowing Ruby couldn't see. "_Remember_? It's better for, um, runners."

"Of course," her face reddened; she was clearly embarrassed that she had forgotten she wouldn't be drinking caffeine anytime soon. "I suppose I'm still getting used to the idea of being….well, a runner."

"Like I said," Ruby looked back and forth between them. "You Charmings are weird."

* * *

Emma had tried her hardest to stay through her entire shift. But when three o'clock rolled around and she still hadn't heard from Regina, she decided to cut out early.

As she walked into the house, she prepared herself to listen to Regina rant about how it was 'utterly ridiculous' for her to come home, but she didn't really care. There were days she physically ached for her wife's presence. And today was one of them.

But when Emma got into the house, she was floored by the surreal scene she found in her living room.

Her father was on the recliner, reading one of Henry's comic books. Her wife was passed out on the couch with her shoes (a pair of sneakers Emma had never seen before in her life) still on her feet.

"What the hell?" she gaped as she addressed Charming. "I don't even know what I'm looking at right now."

"Regina fell asleep, I didn't want to leave her alone. And then I found Henry's comic books and then, what time is it? I think I got a little caught up in reading them; they're actually pretty good."

"That only answers about one of the million questions running through my mind. First—why is Regina dressed like that?"

"Oh, right," her casually shrugged. "We went jogging earlier."

"Wait, Regina went running? With _you_?"

"Tink said it would help her feel better, remember?"

"Yes, _I_ remember—I'm just trying to imagine a scenario in which you came over here, asked Regina to go and she actually said yes."

"Well, that's exactly what happened. And we had a nice time."

"I don't get it," she remained stubbornly confused. "Why are you acting like it's the most normal thing in the world that you spent your day off with Regina?"

"Emma," he replied seriously, "you asked me to make an effort and I did. And your wife was very gracious and kind to me all day—isn't this what you wanted?"

"Yes," she accepted his explanation without further protest. Because it was, without a doubt, exactly she wanted—she just didn't think she would actually get it. She sat down on the edge of the couch and smoothly removed Regina's shoes. "How was she? With the running, I mean?"

"She's sort of a natural. Plus, she said she felt better after."

"God, she's adorable." Emma heard her father speaking, but she was slightly distracted admiring her wife's sleeping form. "It means a lot to me that you did this—she really needed a day where she felt good, you know?"

"Emma," he said, ignoring her commentary, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure, anything."

"Do you have friends?"

"Uh," The Savior snorted at the bewildering inquiry; it was enough for her to devote her attention entirely to her father. "What?"

"It's a simple question."

"Okay, well," she answered as honestly as she could, "Regina is my best friend."

"Your mother is mine," he agreed with her logic. "But it's important to have friends besides your wife."

"Uh—I mean, I kind of thought that you and Mary-Margaret are my friends, too?"

"Of course we are. But, despite our unconventional situation, we are _still _your parents. I'm talking about friends outside of the family."

"Where is this even coming from? How many more friends do you think I need?"

"Something Ruby said to me today got me thinking. Have you stopped going out because people treat you differently? Because you're with Regina?"

She wanted to snap at him—to ask him why the hell it had taken him so long to ask such a basic question. But she reminded herself he had just done a wonderful thing for Regina and didn't deserve an attitude.

"No, they don't treat me differently. But they don't treat Regina differently, either."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean they won't give her a chance—not the one she deserves. I don't really have an interest in being friends with people like that."

"Are you sure they won't give her a chance?" he asked, clearly suggesting that she was wrong. "Or are you not even_ allowing_ them the opportunity to?"

"How would I do that?"

"Do you, maybe, hide Regina from the town?"

"She's the Mayor; I don't think she's exactly hidden from the town."

"That's not what I meant and you know it. I'm talking about _you_ trying to protect Regina by not letting anyone get close enough to hurt her."

"Yeah," she hissed, more aggressively than she intended. No one had ever called her out on her tactic and she slightly resented the implication that she was doing something wrong. "Well, maybe I don't want her to be treated like shit by anyone ever again."

"You can't control that."

"I can try."

"But aren't you the one always telling us that Regina spent her whole life being controlled?"

"It's not like that—it's not like she wants to spend time with these people, anyway. She's got me and she's got Henry. Tink is always there for her, too. She doesn't need anyone else and neither do I."

"That's a horrible attitude to have."

"Why?" she pressed. "Why does this matter so much?"

"Because you're about to have a daughter," David reasoned. "And it's going to be different than it was with Henry. You're going to have to deal with teachers and parents and classmates and all of them are going to have opinions about your wife—some of which aren't going to be flattering. I think it might be time you two stopped hiding out in this mansion—or at the Sheriff's station—or town hall. I think it's time you let the rest of the town get to know the _real_ Regina."

"Alright," Emma sighed, not interested in an argument. And, yeah, maybe he had a point, one she hadn't really considered. "I'll think about it."

"And look," he cautiously continued, "don't bite my head off, but there was one other thing Ruby said today that the two of you should be aware of."

"What now?"

"Supposedly people are talking—they've noticed that Regina hasn't been showing up at work and that your mother has been anxious—they think that something is 'up' with us."

"You're saying we have to figure out how to tell people we're having a baby?"

"I'm saying Regina is three months pregnant and as tiny as she is, I'm not sure how much longer you're going to be able to hide it."

"I want to pull my hair out thinking about having to tell this whole bizarre town."

"Here," he tossed her a comic book. "Then don't think about it—at least not until Regina wakes up from her nap."

* * *

David sat with his daughter for close to forty-five minutes reading in content silence. But then, as the four o'clock hour struck, Regina finally stirred from her sleep.

"Hey, there," Emma cooed as soon as the brunette opened her eyes. "I heard you had quite the day, my little Olympian runner."

"I have to get up," Regina grumbled. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"No—you deserve the rest. Why do you have to get up?"

"I have to make dinner," Regina said, but as she did, she wrapped her arms around Emma's waist and nestled her face into the blonde's stomach.

"I'll make dinner, you stay right here."

"No—what's the point of getting more sleep if you're all the way in the kitchen, too far for snuggling?"

"I could make dinner," David offered, as he watched the admittedly adorable couple. "I mean, if it would help."

"Oh," Regina lifted her head. "David, I didn't realize you were still here."

"I am and I can make dinner. I won't stay for it—I'll just make it and head out."

He waited for Regina to chastise him for not knowing his place or for suggesting she was incapable of the task. But instead, she smiled as she rested her head back on Emma's lap. "That would be wonderful."

"Thank you," Emma beamed at him before adding the word that always made his heart melt, "Dad."

David looked at the two of them huddled together. The Charming women, he thought to himself, most certainly included Snow, Emma _and_ Regina.

And before the newest addition arrived, he was going to convince everyone of that fact.

* * *

Emma cringed at how awkward dinner with Henry was; she felt clueless as to how she was supposed to fix it or how she was even supposed to approach such a sensitive topic.

Regina, for her part, was fidgeting beyond belief—and as Emma studied her, she was certain her wife was about to burst.

"It's a girl," Regina blurted out only seconds later, confirming Emma's suspicions. "You're going to have a sister, Henry."

"Really?" Henry met her gaze, failing to hide his curiosity. "You can tell that already?"

"Yes, Tinkerbell could."

"That's awesome," he admitted. "I, uh, was actually hoping it would be."

"When you were younger you used to beg me for a little sibling and I always had to tell you no."

"I remember."

"I didn't think it ever would happen. I mean, I already knew everyone in the whole town. It's not like I expected to meet anyone living under the curse. It was just us—the queen and her little prince. I thought it would be like that forever. Who would've thought that I'd be having a daughter with the little prince's birth mother?"

Emma nearly choked up at the candid and emotional speech from the woman she loved. She bit her lip, watching Regina speak to their son so effortlessly.

"I was thinking—the baby—she should have my room," Henry offered. "Because, you know, it's the biggest one—and also, it's closer to your bedroom in case she needs you and stuff."

"That's very sweet, but that's _your _room; you don't need to give it up. One of the guestrooms will work quite well as a nursery."

"Okay, but you can still change your mind. I won't be mad."

"Thank you, Henry. You're going to make an excellent brother."

"She probably won't need me to protect her, though, since she'll have magic."

"On the contrary, dear. She will most certainly need you to protect her. You're the Storybrooke expert and she'll need to learn from you. And, besides, who else is going to explain her family tree to her? Because, frankly, I'm not sure I'm up to the task."

"True," Henry laughed genuinely. And Emma was glad one of them could make their son smile. "That's actually a really good point."

* * *

As Emma stood next to Regina doing the dishes, she understood that only half of her problem was solved.

"I'm glad he's happy about his sister and everything," she thought out loud. "But he's still pissed off at me. He would barely look my way."

"Because he thinks you lied to him?"

"Because my vagina only makes magic with your vagina and not Neal's penis."

"Emma!" Regina shrieked at the juvenile explanation. "That was not necessary."

"But that's basically what it comes down to! He's acting like I purposely didn't bestow the gift of magic to him. Meanwhile, when I had him I was still living in a world where Snow White was some chick in a stupid dress and not, you know, my mother."

"Her dresses _were_ quite stupid."

"Regina, he's really mad at me," she whined. "What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't think you're going to like my response."

"Tell me."

"I think this is an occasion where you and Neal should talk to Henry together."

"Are you suggesting that Neal actually act like a father?" Emma scoffed at the idea. "Neal isn't even our go-to-babysitter. We literally only ask him to babysit when no one else can."

"I am well-aware of Neal's many inadequacies. But if Henry needs to be reassured that the two people who brought him into this world cared for each other, than maybe it's worth making a phone call to your ex."

"I don't know."

"That's fine, dear—just think about it."

"Fine," Emma agreed, but she also decided she had done more than enough thinking for one day. "Do you think our vaginas can make magic togethertonight so I can forget about this?"

"Maybe I will consider it if you ask me like an actual adult. Would you like to try again, love?"

"Wife of mine," Emma said melodramatically, "can we please have sexual intercourse tonight?"

"_Can_ we?"

"Seriously?" The Savior rolled her eyes. "Um, _may_ we please have sexual intercourse tonight?"

"No, I actually meant _can_ we?" Regina corrected. "Do you think we can have sex while I'm pregnant?"

"Of course—pregnant people have sex all the time."

"But do you think we should be adding _more_ magic? Do you think it will hurt her? Or me? Or you?"

"Shit," Emma muttered, angry she hadn't even thought of the possibility. "I don't know—give me your phone."

"My phone? Why?"

"So I can text Tink and ask her if we can have sex," she explained as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "She said we could ask her anything."

"There is no way you are doing that."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I'm not interrupting her evening for something that's not an emergency—we'll go see her tomorrow in person to find out more."

"It's an emergency to _me_," Emma sighed. "She's a fairy, right? So can't she, like, sense if we need her? I mean, I really need her 'cause I_ really_ need you."

"Emma Swan-Mills so help me if you summon Tinkerbell into our kitchen right now I will withhold sex for the rest of our marriage."

"Now that's the emptiest threat I've ever heard," she laughed. "But fine, tomorrow it is."

* * *

That night David walked into his apartment feeling rather accomplished. "Snow!" He called out before he even saw her. "You'll never believe the day I had. Regina and I…"

But he trailed off when he heard the sobs coming from their bedroom. He picked up his pace as he ran to her.

"Mary-Margaret?" He enveloped his wife into his arms when he saw just how upset she was. "What's wrong?"

"I—uh," she choked out. "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"About the baby—about what the baby means."

He didn't know what on earth she could be referring to but, truthfully, he wasn't in the least bit surprised.

Because that was the thing about Charming women: The next crisis was always just around the corner.


	5. Baby Bulwark

**Happy 2014, Swen :) Cheers to another year of the best ship ever. Enjoy the update. FlyYouFools = my beta savoir :D Oh and PS- was being rude before, so I hope you all got my replies to your lovely reviews. **

* * *

When Emma fell asleep that night she dreamt of Peter Pan for the first time in years.

She found herself back in the Dark Jungle, sitting in the middle of the campground she knew all too well. It was, of course, the very same one where she spent close to a week during Henry's now-infamous kidnapping.

Emma was wearing the exact outfit she wore on that journey: clad once more in the raggedy tank top she had been forced to throw away upon their return. (No matter how many times she washed it, she couldn't rid it of the stench or stains.)

She sat by the fire and held Regina, who was fast asleep, in her arms. The winds around them howled and she instinctively cradled her slumbering wife close to her chest. Truthfully, she had no idea what they were doing back in Neverland, she only knew they had to get out as soon as possible.

"_Regina_," she uttered urgently. "Wake up, we need to go home."

But Regina did not move. In fact, the brunette appeared completely lifeless. Emma frantically checked her breathing and was relieved to find her true love was alive and seemingly uninjured.

She was about to try and wake Regina yet again when, suddenly, she heard his unmistakable voice.

_"Hello there, Savior."_

Peter Pan, as smug as ever, stood before them with his arms crossed and his brow raised.

With one hand, she picked her sword off the ground, shielded Regina with her body and pointed it straight at him. "Leave us alone," she yelled.

"Oh, relax," he rolled his eyes at her dramatic response. "When will you learn that I only want to help?"

"Help?" Emma scoffed. "You're the devil."

"That's interesting," he replied, as he began to confidentially pace back and forth. "Because wasn't it _my _island where you realized your true feelings for the woman currently asleep in your arms? I believe some would argue it's thanks to _me _thatyou're Mrs. Evil Queen. And I didn't even get invited to the wedding."

"Why are we here?" she demanded, instead of engaging in his outrageous claims. "And what do you want from us this time?"

"Well," he announced, taking a step closer, "I believe we need to have a chat about your daughter."

"Let's be clear about something," the Savior snarled. "I will die before you get near my daughter."

"Right now I'm more concerned about what you're going to do when Queen Regina finds out you're a complete and utter fraud."

She tried to resist his trap, ignore the way he threatened her sanity with his words. But this time, she just couldn't help herself: "What the hell is that even supposed to mean?"

"I'm talking about your nasty habit of claiming to be a mother."

"I _am_ a mother," she declared, trying to mask her insecurity.

"Yes, technically speaking, that's true. But, just out of curiosity, what mothering have you _actually _done?"

"I…" She knew she had an answer somewhere—but with Pan staring so intensely, she couldn't seem to find it. "I mean…"

"It's easy to be a mother after all the real work has been done," he further baited her. "So, please don't kid yourself into believing you had anything to do with how sweet Henry turned out."

"I know that Regina deserves the credit."

"And just how is the Queen going to feel when she realizes you have no idea how to raise a child? Whatever will she do with her worthless soul mate?"

"I'll _learn_," Emma argued. "She'll teach me."

"Don't you think she's getting sick of having to teach you _everything_? She taught you how to cook and clean and fold your sheets instead of just crumbling them up in a ball and throwing them in the closet. She, essentially, house-trained you. I'm still not really sure what _she_ gets out of your relationship..."

"Shut up; you don't know what you're talking about."

"Little Orphan Emma never had anyone take care of her, did she?" He viciously mocked. "How does she expect to take care of anyone else?"

"Stop," she begged, accepting that she no longer sounded remotely threatening. "Stop it."

"I had Henry's heart in my chest, and I can tell you, for certain, that he barely thinks of you as his mother. Are you going to let Regina be the only mother to your daughter, too?"

"I know you—and I know you're just playing mind games."

"You're right about one thing, Savior: This _is _a game," Pan snapped his fingers—and then, before she could stop it, Regina disappeared from her arms and reappeared in his. "And Peter Pan _never_ loses."

Emma jumped up—but Pan and Regina were gone in an instant.

"No!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "Regina! _Come back_!"

And then, in defeat, she collapsed to the ground.

* * *

Emma's eyes shot open and her chest heaved with labored breaths. It took her a few seconds to regain her bearings—but when she did, she realized everything was alright.

Peter Pan was dead. She was nowhere near Neverland. And Regina was currently her little spoon.

Emma wanted nothing more than to turn her around and kiss her all over—but she resisted the urge. Regina was in a deep sleep and Emma refused wake her pregnant wife, who surely needed the rest.

So despite being shaken up, Emma remained perfectly still—except for tightening her hold and placing a tender kiss on Regina's bare shoulder.

She watched the former queen sleep and listened to the rhythm of her heartbeat. She was certain her wife was going to be the world's greatest mother to their new daughter. But she, on the other hand, was not convinced of her own self worth.

The question Peter Pan prompted was one the whole world would surely ask: What business did a hardened orphan have raising the child of True Love?

* * *

The next time Emma woke, it was infinitely more peaceful.

"Good morning." She heard Regina's soothing voice and felt her wife's lips graze her own. "It's time to get up, my love."

"Hi," she grumbled back as Regina stroked her cheek. "I'm up—I swear—any second now."

The brunette smiled and stood before her, already showered, in nothing but her bra and underwear. Emma stared at Regina's almost-naked form and took in the sight of her growing baby bump. For the first time, the Savior understood why people referred to pregnant women as glowing: Regina looked positively angelic.

"Damn—you are seriously and ridiculously beautiful." It was a less-than-eloquent declaration, but it was the best she could do first thing in the morning.

"Thank you, but I certainly don't feel it," her wife replied with a slight frown. "Will you help me find something to wear that actually fits me? I've decided to go into work today."

"Oh, are you sure you're up for that?"

"I don't think I have much of a choice," Regina shrugged as she walked toward the closet.

"Why not?" Emma jumped out of bed; her bare feet pattered against the floor as she followed closely behind. "What do you mean?"

"My office has been bombarded with phone calls over the past few days," Regina explained as she desperately rummaged through her clothes. "Apparently, my recent absence has generated a few rumors."

"Like what?"

"Let's see—some people are certain we are divorcing and others believe I've developed a terminal illness. I'm guessing that second one is wishful thinking?"

"Hey, that's so _not_ funny."

"In any case, I can't allow it to continue. The last thing we need is for Henry to overhear one of those theories."

"He'd know it's bullshit."

"But he still shouldn't have to listen to it. And, besides, people need to know I haven't just decided to take a permanent vacation. Especially since we already learned no one else is capable of doing this job."

"Yeah, all of that is true," Emma conceded. "But your health still comes before work. Tell me, honestly, how do you feel?"

"I'm OK," Regina reported as Emma utilized her self-proclaimed super power. "I am far less dizzy. I still have a bit of nausea but I feel good enough to go in, I promise. Does that pass your lie detector?"

"It does," Emma answered, confident she was being truthful. "So, now… what exactly is the wardrobe crisis?"

"None of my pants zipper, as you'll recall. I never noticed how little breathing room they have."

"I noticed; but I wasn't complaining."

"My dresses still zipper but they're so form-fitting that they make the bump very prominent."

"What about a black pencil skirt?" Emma suggested, as she pulled one out of the drawer and handed it over. "I feel like that would be good."

"Perhaps," Regina shimmed her way into the skirt and smiled brightly when it zipped all the way up. "So far so good—do you have anything to complete the outfit? Or shall I just go into work without a top?"

"No way, I am very territorial about those breasts of yours. Although… pretty soon I'll be sharing access to them with a baby, huh?"

"Yes," the former queen laughed her wife's ramblings. "You will be."

"What about a black shirt and your long red blazer?"

"I don't like that blazer," Regina protested as she looked at it with disgust. "It reminds me of..."

"Us fighting over Henry? Me accusing you of murdering Archie? You launching me across your walkway?"

"Yes, exactly."

"I know," Emma nodded. She walked behind Regina and carefully slipped her arms into the offending jacket. "But we can't deny that it looks really, really good on you, right?"

"I suppose," Regina glanced into the mirror, appearing satisfied with her reflection. "I've been staring at my closet for thirty minutes and you solved my problem in fifteen seconds."

"I hate to say this—but we might need to get you some new clothes soon. Unless you want to wear pencil skirts for the next six months."

"Could we, perhaps, go tomorrow?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"But this will do nicely for today. And thankfully I'll be behind the podium."

"What podium?"

"I am going to hold a press conference to announce the pregnancy. Did I not mention that, dear? I'm sorry…I think I'm in the beginning stages of pregnancy brain. That's a real thing, right?"

"A press conference?" Emma asked. "Um, Regina, have you been watching The West Wing on Netflix again? I knew I should've changed the password."

"A press conference is a perfectly acceptable way to make an announcement. What else do you expect me to do?"

"Aren't press conferences for scandals and affairs and stuff?"

"Not always."

"Can't you just send out a mass email? Or use a carrier pigeon? Oh, I know! You could just tell Ruby—I promise everyone will know an hour later."

"That's not very professional though, is it?"

"No, I guess not."

"Emma," Regina grew serious before taking one of the blonde's hands in her own, "are you not ready to tell people we're having a baby? Because I didn't mean to make this decision without you and I would never push you into it if you oppose."

"It's not that," she promised. "I guess a part of me just thinks this isn't anyone's business, you know? And I don't like feeling like we're being _forced_ into telling."

"I understand. I just don't think there's anything we can do to stop people from making our lives their business. I assumed it would be better to take control instead of letting the rumors run rampant."

"You're right." Emma knew, despite how much she didn't like this idea**.** "But are we going to admit _how_ it happened?"

"As much as your mother would rather deny it, I am pretty sure people already know we're having sex."

"You _know_ what I mean. I'm talking about the magic."

"I have given a lot of thought to that," Regina admitted. "And I personally feel that lying about how our daughter was conceived is a terrible way to bring her into this world. We're not ashamed of our magic and she shouldn't be either."

"I totally agree; I don't want to lie, either. I'm just worried about how people will react. Do you think they're going to freak?"

"You forget that people in this town grew up around magic. The _one _thing everyone from the Enchanted Forest knows is that True Love can do anything. I really don't believe this will have that much shock-value."

"Alright," Emma said, feeling a bit better. "Do I at least get to stand next to you like a political wife?"

"Truthfully, I would prefer if you sat in the front row so I can pretend I'm simply speaking to you and not a large group of people."

"Of course, I'll be front and center."

"Oh, and perhaps you should invite your parents."

"Yeah? You think?"

"They'll be offended if we don't ask them to come," Regina reasoned. "Actually, you should get dressed, dear—I'll text your father."

Emma almost uttered, _Since when the hell are you texting David? _ But she bit her tongue. It was classic orphan behavior to question a good thing staring you straight in the face.

And despite that he was a mere creation of her subconscious, Emma was determined to prove the dream version of Peter Pan wrong.

* * *

David sat on his bed trying to process the events of the previous night.

He had come home to a distraught Mary-Margaret, who cried incoherently in his arms for hours.

When he begged her to explain what, on earth, her breakdown had to do with Emma and Regina's baby, she only cried harder.

Finally, sometime after 1:30 AM, she whispered in the dark: "We're never going to have another baby, David. We _can't_—not anymore."

She refused to elaborate. She just continued to cry until she fell asleep.

He had hoped the morning would bring an explanation, but he woke to an empty bed: His wife was already in the shower.

As soon as he heard her turn the water off he barged into the bathroom, determined to fight for answers.

"You have to talk to me." He approached her; steam filled the room as Mary-Margaret wrapped a towel around her body. "You can't just drop a bomb like that and not explain."

"I know," she nodded, looking straight ahead into the mirror. "I'm sorry about last night."

"You weren't making any sense. And I think you're _completely_ overreacting. There's just a lot going on right now and…"

"David," she sighed, finally turning to him. "We are Emma's parents and we have not done one normal parental thing in her entire life."

"Do you really think I'm not painfully aware of that?"

"She's having a baby and she deserves to have parents she can rely on to help her through it. I didn't have a mother when I was pregnant and I sorely wish I had. I know Emma's not carrying this child but she'll be going through it just as much. I wasn't there for her when she was pregnant with Henry; I want to be there for her now."

"Of course—and I agree with the sentiment. I just don't understand why that means we can't _ever_ have another kid ourselves? You said it like it was so final."

"It_ is_ final_!" _she practically shrieked. "How can we focus on helping Emma's child if we're focused on raising a baby of our own?"

"But Emma has been a mother since the moment we met her," Charming argued. "You were willing to have another child even though Emma had Henry. You said you wanted a second chance."

"I know what I said, but things have changed," she firmly stated. "And, I mean, do you really think this family tree needs to get more complicated than it already is? Do you really think I should get pregnant after my own daughter has a magic baby with her wife?"

"This family tree is going to be complicated no matter what we do or don't do. We shouldn't let the complications dictate _our _decisions."

"I know that this is my fault," Mary-Margaret admitted, sadly. "I put off trying to get pregnant when we got back from Neverland because we were all so overwhelmed. And then I put it off because Emma was getting married and it didn't feel like the right time. And now…well, we missed the window."

"Is this because you're afraid of Regina?" David asked. "Because you think she'll be upset if you have a baby after her or something? Like you're stealing her thunder?"

"I honestly don't think Regina would care. She has everything she's ever wanted."

"Then, I'm sorry, but I still don't get it."

"I guess I just have this vision in my mind," Snow softly began her explanation. "I want to be there when the baby is born. I want to be Emma's first phone call when she's overwhelmed in the middle of the night and Regina's asleep. I want us to be their go-to babysitters. I want to spoil Henry and the new baby beyond belief. I want Henry and his sister to come running to us when they're sick of their mothers—and we'll talk them down and send them home after we overfeed them. We're grandparents, David—and I want to be the _best _grandparents we can be. We haven't been able to give Emma much, but I want to give her that. And I just don't think we can give it our all if we're raising a baby, too."

"I get it," he finally admitted—because, yes—it did make sense. "But how do we know Regina will _allow_ us to be that kind of grandparent? We're still not exactly her favorite people. Do you really think she'll let us in?"

"I don't know that she will. But it sounded like you had a good day with her yesterday?"

"I did," David acknowledged. "But she still thinks we have boundary issues. And we can't force anything. It will backfire and she'll shut us out completely."

"But she _can't _do that!" Snow panicked. "She can't deny that she's carrying _our_ grandchild. We have rights."

"Yeah, I would avoid phrases like that."

"I just want a sliver of normalcy—for once. I want us to be a family."

"We _are_ a family."

"Are _you_ okay with this decision, though?" she tentatively inquired. "Not having another child of our own?"

"I love you, I love Emma, I love Henry and I will love the new baby. I don't need anything more. But I'm worried you'll wake up one day and regret this."

"No, David—I promise you, I'm at peace."

"You didn't seem at peace last night."

"I needed to mourn. I mean, thinking about what we missed with Emma never gets easier. And, of course, I am sad we won't get another chance but I've come to terms with our fate."

"Okay." He accepted the decision then stepped forward and engulfed her in a reassuring hug. "Then, yes, I agree."

"Good," she nodded as she pulled back. "Because we never did have an official celebration; I would like to invite Emma, Regina and Henry over for brunch this Sunday."

"Those three certainly do love their pancakes."

"Exactly, so, I was thinking we could have them over and we…"

David's phone beeped loudly, interrupting Mary-Margaret. When he pulled the device out of his sweatshirt pocket, he failed to hide his surprise at whom the message was from.

"Who is it?" Snow asked, noticing her husband's expression.

"It's Regina."

"What did she say?"

"She said: _If you and Snow are available, Emma and I need you to come to Town Hall at 11:45." _

_"_See," Snow said excitedly, as if she had just proven her entire point. "Emma and Regina need us."

* * *

Regina had not expected such a large turnout.

After all, Sarah had only announced there would been a noon press conference at nine in the morning.

"I brought you some water," Emma approached her and put the cold bottle down on the podium's surface, "In case you need it."

"Thank you, dear."

"Are you doing okay?" her wife asked. "You know you can still back out, right? You can just announce a bake sale or something."

"Do you not want me to do this?"

"No, you just look nervous to me, Regina. I was giving you an out."

"I don't need an out, it's just more crowded than I anticipated."

"Yeah, clearly this whole town has nothing better to do than take bets on why you missed a few days of work. But, whatever, it's like you said: Pretend you're just talking to me."

"I know, I will."

"Good," Emma nodded. And then, certain no one could see her with the podium blocking the view, she squeezed Regina's ass. "Knock 'em dead, Madam Mayor."

Regina bit her lip, holding back genuine amusement at the somewhat crude, but supportive, gesture. She watched Emma sit down exactly where she promised: front and center.

The clock struck twelve. _Game on_.

"If everyone would be so kind, I would ask that you please take your seats," she announced to the crowd. "I will be starting right on schedule."

As a few stragglers searched for open chairs, Regina met Emma's gaze. Her wife mouthed _I love you_ and that, alone, gave her the courage to begin.

"Thank you all for coming; I certainly was not expecting such a large turnout."

The butterflies in her stomach settled—this was a happy announcement—she had nothing to fear.

"I would like to take this time to address my absences over the past two weeks. As many of you have noticed, I have been working from home. First of all, I would like to assure you that the town remains in exceptional shape. In fact, my projections have us coming in under-budget for this month."

She looked back to the front row and saw David and Snow had arrived, flanking Emma.

David gave her an unexpected thumbs-up.

Snow simply nodded and offered a quick smile.

"However, it is still important for you to understand the reason for my absences. The truth is: I have been feeling a bit under the weather. Not because, as some have suggested, I am seriously ill. Rather, it is because Sheriff Swan and I received some wonderful and life-changing news."

The crowd hung on her every word. In all her time as Queen, she never remembered having such a captive audience.

"I'm pregnant and we are expecting a new addition sometime in February. And while I, admittedly, may need to work from home on a few more occasions over the next six months, I can assure you that I will not skirt my responsibilities as mayor."

She heard a few muffled whispers, but ignored them. She had one more announcement to get through.

"I suppose it is also worth mentioning that, much like Emma, our child is the product of True Love—and while the baby was brought into this world with a little help from our magic, Dr. Whale has assured us that the child is perfectly healthy."

She exhaled, relieved to be done with the speech.

"I will now take your questions."

For a moment, the room was dead silent. Regina took that as a good sign. Truthfully, she did not expect anyone to burst into congratulatory applause.

When no one spoke she assumed there was nothing left to say. She was about to walk off, when she saw a hand fly up.

"I'm sorry, Regina," she recognized the woman's voice immediately. It was none other than Granny, owner of the town's most beloved establishment. "But, just to clarify, what you're saying is that Emma knocked you up with her magic?"

"Though I would rather not use the term 'knocked up'—yes, that _is _thegist of it."

Gasps flew through the crowd and Regina wondered if she hadn't been clear enough in her original explanation. Because now, it seemed that people were openly reacting.

"Do you expect us to believe that?" Leroy followed up, raising his voice above many in the crowd. "I mean, seriously?"

"Yes," she replied instantly. She didn't understand what, exactly, was baffling her constituents. "Because it's the truth."

"But it can't be," Doc, seated next to Leroy, replied. "It's impossible."

"Of course it's possible," Regina rebutted. "We have True Love."

"But you're still both women?" Granny quipped. "I mean, I'm just saying: Biology is biology."

"If you don't believe me, that's your choice. But Tinkerbell has confirmed it is magic."

"Tink? You mean your best friend?" Leroy shouted. "'Cause I'm pretty sure she'll do whatever you tell her to."

"And what, exactly, would be my motivation for faking a magical pregnancy?" Regina challenged. "What would be the point?"

"I don't know, but you've always got some sort of a plan up your sleeve. You're probably trying to distract us from something…"

Regina sighed and resisted the urge to yell that she had done nothing to harm any of them in years. When she looked to her wife, she saw David holding onto the Savior's arm—possibly preventing her from jumping up and telling them all off herself.

Snow, for her part, appeared to be searching the crowd for someone in particular. Regina realized who it was rather quickly.

"Tinkerbell may be Regina's friend," the Blue Fairy rose from her seat and nodded at Snow. "But I certainly am not. I have no incentive to lie on the Mayor's behalf, and I can assure you that what she is suggesting _is_ entirely possible."

"You think it's true?" Granny asked her. "That they made a magic baby?"

"Actually, I know it is," Blue confirmed. "Emma and Regina are more connected with True Love than any couple I have ever known, including Snow and Charming. And Regina is most definitely pregnant with Emma's child. I can feel it."

"Well," Regina sighed. "There you have it—straight from the fairy's mouth. Now that that's settled…"

"Are you sure you shouldn't resign?" Leroy interrupted.

"It is highly inappropriate and insulting to suggest that a woman resigns from her job because she is pregnant."

"It's more because we don't know what you're pregnant with..."

"Excuse me?"

"The Savior knocked the Evil Queen up with magic? That sounds kind of dangerous to me."

"It is _not_ dangerous," she felt herself getting closer to losing her cool.

"What if you're carrying a monster in there? Storybrooke has enough problems."

"Okay, nope, that's it." Suddenly, Emma got up and marched angrily toward the podium. "She doesn't have to listen to this crap."

"Sheriff Swan," Regina gently warned. "I have this under control."

"Actually, I think it's time people start addressing me as Sheriff Swan-_Mills_," Emma huffed into the microphone. "Everybody got that?"

A few people nodded at her while others just stared.

"Great," Emma continued. "So, here's the thing, like it or not we're having a magic, True Love baby. You can all sit here and gossip about it—but we don't care. In case you need reminding, we have saved your asses with True Love on more than one occasion. And, guess what? Our kid will probably grow up to do the same. So, before you get all judge-y about it—maybe you should consider _that._ "

"To be fair, Emma," Ruby replied. "You guys are usually the ones who get us into the situations you then save us from. It's a weird Catch-22 thing."

"I swear, this town is unbelievable sometimes—I seriously don't know what you want from us."

"We just want our Savior back," the redhead told her. "That's all."

"I'm literally standing right here."

"But your allegiance isn't with the town anymore, sister," Leroy stated. "It's with Regina."

The former queen waited for Emma to give an eloquent response about how their marriage did not decrease her love for the town.

But, instead, her wife replied_: "Your damn right it is."_

"So, maybe that's the problem," the dwarf suggested. "No offense, but we were all sort of banking on the divorce announcement."

"_Hey_," David lost it next—he stood up and joined his daughter. "Emma has sacrificed a lot for all of us over the years. You don't always have to agree with her, but you have to respect her family."

"He's right," Snow followed him. "And, next time, before you suggest that our _grandchild_ is some sort of 'monster'—you would do well to remember what the baby actually is: _royalty_."

"Anyone else have any problems?" Emma questioned. "No? Great—press conference adjourned."

As the crowd began to exit, Regina stared at the trio who had valiantly come to her rescue.

"Sorry I cut in like that," Emma turned around and grabbed her for a hug. "I didn't mean to undermine your authority or anything. Are you mad at me?"

"No, of course I'm not mad—I'm feeling very…"

There were so many words running through her mind—_grateful, protected, secure_—just to name a few.

"Emotional?" David offered his best guess. "Yeah, you should probably get used to that—hormones and everything."

"Yes, I suppose so."

Regina didn't want to talk about how wrong she had been about how the people would react—she didn't want to think about how she would be the topic of gossip all over town—she just wanted to change the subject.

"Would you two like to come over for brunch on Sunday?" Snow asked, answering her prayers. "And Henry, too—of course."

"There will be pancakes, right?" Emma excitedly inquired. "With cinnamon?"

"Obviously."

"That would be lovely," Regina responded, surprised at her own enthusiasm. But it was not as surprising as what she did next. "Emma and I are going shopping for maternity clothes tomorrow—you could come, Snow, if you'd like."

She didn't know which of the Charmings looked closest to fainting.

* * *

The rest of Regina's afternoon was productive—she threw herself into work, grateful for the much needed distraction.

But by 3:30 pm, her body started to feel the strain and she decided to call it a day.

She had not even been home ten minutes when she heard a knock on the door. Standing on her front porch was her son's father—Regina simply assumed Emma had decided to take her advice and reach out to her ex.

"Neal," she greeted him. "I'm so glad Emma called you; come on in."

He silently followed her—but halfway into the hallway, he abruptly stopped walking.

"Emma _didn't_ call me," he told her as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "That's why I'm here."

"I'm sorry?" She turned to face him. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Where's Emma?"

"She's still at the station."

"No, she's not. I already checked there."

"Well," Regina looked at her watch. "I know she's on shift. She must be out on patrol. Did you check for the car?"

"No, I didn't think of that."

"Is there something _I _can help you with?"

"You're pregnant."

"Are you trying to congratulate me?"

"Do you know how I found out that you're pregnant?" Neal asked, anger apparent in his voice. "I overheard people talking at Granny's about your big announcement. I don't understand why Emma couldn't even pick up the phone to tell me that my son is going to have a sibling."

"Oh," Regina realized the oversight and felt a small pang of guilt. "I truly apologize for that. We've been extremely overwhelmed, to say the least. I assure you it was not intentional. I hope you can understand."

"I _don't_ understand."

Regina looked at him closely—something was off: the way he was leaning against the wall, the way he was staring at her stomach, the way his words seemed slightly slurred. As she put it all together, she came to a conclusion. "Neal, are you _drunk_?"

"I'm not drunk," he insisted. "Rubymay have bought me a _few_ drinks after I found out."

"It's barely four o'clock," She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the kitchen.

"What if Henry comes home and finds you like this?"

"Cut me a break: my ex-girlfriend got another woman pregnant with magic."

"Another woman?" Regina raised a brow, as she sat him down at the table. "I'm a bit more than that, wouldn't you admit?"

"Minor detail."

"I'm sorry if this is hard for you but..."

"Hard? No, it's bullshit, Regina. And you know it."

"Oh, do I now?"

"You stole her from right under my nose."

"You're one to talk about stealing, thief," Regina sassed, quickly growing tired of his immaturity. "And, besides, Emma is not property to be _stolen_ away."

"She was mine and everyone knows it—even today people were coming up to me and saying it. No one understands how you pulled this off. No one understands why she is with you. And everyone thinks less of her for it."

Regina had heard a similar sentiment earlier and she _still _didn't know how to handle it—this time, no one was around to intervene.

"I was winning her back and you just came out of fucking nowhere," Neal ranted, "with your stupid low-cut shirts and your boobs in her face and your magic and…"

"Yes, I'm terribly sorry that while you and Hook were fighting over whom Emma would rather bang, she was busy falling in love with _me_. But why you're reacting this way, _years _later is a bit baffling."

"Because, I mean, there's no turning back after you have a magic baby."

"I am her wife—of course there's no turning back."

Neal had always been so supportive, so willing to accept them—she couldn't understand where this was coming from.

"Marriages end," he shrugged. "My father told me that True Love still requires work and that it was possible you'd break up."

And, suddenly, she understood.

"He's manipulating you, Neal. He's giving you a reason to stay in town because he knows you wouldn't stay for him."

"No, that's not it—he knows stuff."

"I understand why you are the pathetic mess that you are. Your father was more of a father to me than he ever was to you. I am well-aware of how having him in your life can cause you to make questionable decisions. Sometimes I look at you and I feel genuine sympathy. But then I think of what you put Emma through and how useless you are to my son and I'd prefer to set you on fire."

"What_ I_ put Emma through? At least I didn't try to kill her."

"I need you to leave."

"You corrupted her. She's such a shitty person now. No one even likes her."

"Get out," she repeated. "Go get yourself some coffee."

"No, I'm waiting for Emma and Henry to get home."

"No, you're not. But I will gladly call you cab."

"I am going to wait right here."

Regina quickly grabbed her cell phone and dialed her wife's number.

"What are you doing?" Neal asked. "I said I don't want a cab."

"I'm calling Emma."

"No," he jumped up from his seat. "Stop that."

"I thought you wanted her to come here?"

"I want to talk to her before _you_ do."

Neal reached over her shoulder and knocked the phone out of her hand; it smashed against the tile floor and Regina saw the screen shatter into pieces.

She felt her blood boil and her cheeks flush red with rage. She needed this to stop.

She thought if she could restrain Neal for a mere moment—just long enough to get Emma on the phone—her Savior would know what to do.

She channeled the anger that had been building inside of her all day— thinking about what people had said about her family—about Emma—and she used it to conjure up that infamous spell Cora had used on her long ago.

And then, she launched it at him.

But as her hands reached out toward Neal, an entirely overwhelming sensation took over. The familiar feeling of True Love tingled through every cell of her body and she was completely paralyzed.

For seconds, she was frozen in place. It felt like an eternity until her muscles contracted and released. When they did, she instantly crumbled to the floor and stared at her own trembling hands.

"What the fuck?" Neal questioned. "What did you try to do to me?"

She couldn't speak—she could only try to wrap her mind around the gravity of what had just occurred.

"Regina!" Emma's voice broke the silence as it bellowed through the hallway. "Are you here? I left work—I had this sick feeling you weren't okay."

When the Savior entered the kitchen, her eyes darted straight to Neal; Regina sat on the ground shaking and he stood towering over her.

"It's not what it looks like," he prefaced.

"Uh, it better fucking not be," she yelled back, "because it looks like you pushed my pregnant wife to the floor."

"That's not what happened."

"You're drunk," Emma realized immediately. "And you want me to believe you?"

"It's the truth. She tried to use magic on me. She tried but something stopped her."

"Regina," Emma ignored him and bent down. "Are you okay? Is the baby okay?"

"Neal's right," she uttered in response. "He is."

"About what? I can barely understand him."

"He wouldn't leave; he said all these terrible things and I couldn't take it. I'm sorry—I didn't mean to."

"Hey, relax," Emma soothed as she cupped her wife's face. "Everything is alright."

"You're taking her side?" Neal interrupted. "She could've killed me."

"Christ, Neal. When are you going to realize that her side _is_ my side? I'm never going to be on anyone else's side ever again."

"But, Emma..."

"Stop talking and go home," the Savior scolded him. "Seriously, get the hell out of my house."

"You two deserve each other," he said before he stormed out and slammed the door behind him.

When he was gone, Emma pulled Regina into her lap and lovingly caressed her hair. "What happened?" she asked.

"_Emma_, I'm so sorry—please, forgive me. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing and just tell me what happened."

"I was going to use magic to restrain him so that I could call you. But my magic didn't work."

"What do you mean it didn't work?"

"I think our daughter tried to stop me from using that spell—the one my mother used on me. I guess I snapped—he said I corrupted you."

"Maybe you just did the spell wrong?"

"No!" Regina rebutted, trying her best to convey what transpired. "I _felt_ her. I felt her magic—well, it felt like our True Love magic. But you weren't here so it had to be her and she stopped me. She's a three-month-old fetus and she _already_ knows better than I do."

"Look, I know how Neal is when he's drunk. He turns into a total dick and I'm sure he was being aggressive."

"I wasn't scared of him. I just wanted him to go home and he wouldn't."

"He's lucky I wasn't here because I would've beaten the shit out of him."

"I tried to use dark magic—I haven't done that since Neverland."

"I don't care."

"But I disappointed you—and Henry—and the baby."

"You're not listening to me, Regina. I love you—no one is disappointed."

"I need you to call Tinkerbell," she insisted, suddenly overcome with a brand-new fear. "I need to make sure I didn't hurt our daughter."

"You didn't hurt her. You tried to get my asshole ex-boyfriend out of our house."

"Call Tink," Regina begged before she burst into tears. "Please?"

* * *

Emma called Tinkerbell and explained the whole story. Thankfully, it only took the fairy five minutes to arrive at the house.

Emma heard her burst through the front door and sprint up the staircase. Truthfully, the Savior had never been so grateful to call her a friend.

"I got here as fast as I could," Tink panted, when she met Emma outside the bedroom. "How is she?"

"She's been staring into space since I called you. She has convinced herself she hurt the baby. That's not possible, right?"

"No, no," Tink promised. "She couldn't have hurt the baby."

"That's what I thought," Emma nodded. "Can we please go tell _her_ that?"

Apparently, Tinkerbell didn't need to be told twice—before Emma could finish the question, she went barging into the bedroom and straight to Regina's side. The Savior followed closely behind her.

"Hey, Regina," Tink sat down on the bed. "You want me to check up on your precious little one?"

"I want you to tell me what I did to her," the brunette stated without making eye contact. "I want the truth."

"I always tell you the truth." The fairy gently placed her wand on Regina's stomach. "You didn't do anything, she's fine."

"How do you know for sure?"

"What? You don't trust me now?"

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Okay—you want proof? Both of you: Put your hands on the wand."

Emma sat down next to Regina and they both did as they were told. When they did—they felt the unmistakable power of True Love flow through them.

"Do you feel that?" Tink grinned as she watched them. "_That _is your perfectly healthy daughter loving you already."

"I love you, too," Regina whispered as she tightened her grip on the wand "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," Tink insisted and Emma was so grateful to hear someone else say it. "Did your daughter stop you from using dark magic? Yes. But she was trying to protect _you_—that's all. You need to stop being so hard on yourself."

"I'm supposed to be protecting _her_."

"For the record," Tink nudged Regina in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I bet if she had known it was Neal, she would've been totally fine with it. I mean, who wouldn't be?"

"Seriously, I know that's right," Emma laughed. "She would've been cheering you on."

The Savior's eyes brightened as she watched a hesitant smile form on Regina's lips. She was comfortable calling the cheer-up mission a success.


End file.
